


Watch Out for This

by dovesnroses



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Club AU, Cuddling, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Maybe - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Otabek is 21, Otaburi, Rimming, Sex, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Yuri is 18, dj otabek, don't quote me on it, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9820325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovesnroses/pseuds/dovesnroses
Summary: “It could have been your guardian angel, ya know?” Georgi observes as he’s testing the soda dispensers the next night. Yuri reaches over the bar and takes an olive.“No such thing as guardian angels in this part of the city,” he retorts stuffing the olive in his mouth. Georgi gives him an amused look.“Well if they’d been planning on raping and or murdering you, they would have done it. ”Or: Otabek DJs at the club Yuri works at, and everything goes from there.





	1. Scary Monsters, Nice Sprites

Yuri’s biting on the straw of his drink when Mila plants herself on the stool beside him. He glances over at her, and there are literal stars in her eyes.

“I met the new guy Chris got for the weekends!” She shouts hands raised to her cheeks. She waits for Yuri to say something, but he’s sucking at his drink in response.

“Yuri, he is gorgeous!” Yuri can barely hear her, but he still cringes at the shrillness that he can make out. “I saw him spinning - god what else can he do with his fingers -”

“Mila, what the fuck!” Yuri kicks at the redhead with his boot and Mila giggles looking out into the crowd.

“He’s so cool!” Mila screams as the bass drops across the club, “If you could just get a look at him you’d understand!” Yuri rolls his eyes at the blush spread across her cheeks and continues to mouth at the straw of his drink.

The music thrums pleasantly across his skin; and while he would agree that this new DJ was pretty fucking amazing, Mila’s constant shrieking was reaching his last nerve.

“Why don’t you just go and fucking talk to him, you old hag!” Yuri speaks loudly into her ear. Mila rolls her eyes and plucks the straw from his mouth. Taking a sip her face screws at the sour apple and vodka combination.

“I’m on break!” she finally shouts, “Speaking of!” Mila reaches over the bar to grab the rack of small vials containing rainbow liquid. She shoves it into Yuri’s hands with a smirk. It says ‘Your turn!’

Yuri pulls at his hair with an angry groan before downing the rest of his drink. He slams the empty glass and pulls the tips belt around his hips. He mouths ‘fuck you’ to the redhead and she responds by making a ‘V’ with two fingers and running her tongue through the empty space. He gives her a disgusted look before taking the rack and heading out into the crowd.

The throng of people is almost impossible to get through, and Yuri is once again happy for his slender hips. He holds the rack high above his head making his way to the outskirts of the dance floor. Yuri has worked here enough to know that this is where the liquor’s needed. People need their liquid courage and other’s need to blackout. He’s only here to serve.

As he’s passing out the shots he feels himself begin to sway to the music. The group of drunks give him a total of four dollars in tips, and he almost feels good enough to not swear at them for being cheap fucks. Someone pinches his ass, but he only gives them a light kick in the leg.

Whatever this DJ is doing, he’s into it.

By the fifth song he’s actively letting the song take him through the crowd mouthing the words to the bits he knows. He feels a tap on his shoulder with a folded bill. Yuri turns to reach for it and his eyes land on the man on stage.

He’s at the table with one hand pressed over his headphones the other resting on a set of dials. His face is expressionless almost lost and, holy fuck, Yuri can’t get over the set of his mouth and his jaw. He takes the tip his eyes still focusing on the DJ. He’s got to be close to Yuri’s age and then Yuri realizes he’s been staring to long because the man is staring back. Dark eyes meet his and Yuri’s mouth goes dry. He must look like an idiot because the other man is expressionless and then looks back down to work with the dials of his gear.

A new song starts: slower tempo, but a louder bass. Yuri swallows and narrows his gaze. He needs a better look. He pushes past the rest of the crowd ignoring those who call for shots. He gets to the stage where the man is playing and takes a vial of bright, green liquor shoving it up into the DJ’s face. The man is not fazed, but does reach out to take the shot. He messes with the dials and once satisfied he turns to Yuri. With a nod, he swallows the liquor quickly and passes the empty shot glass into slender fingers. Yuri grips it tightly and decidedly makes his way back to the bar.

He wants to avoid Mila and her obsessing so he chooses, instead, to stand in a corner to the side of the stage. He hands out the rest of shots while continuing to watch the DJ perform. The lights from the dance floor paint him in blue hues and white lights. The shadows enhance his godlike features. Yuri realizes that he’s still gripping the emptied shot glass and he puts it back into the rack. There’s one more shot left, and he drinks it down ready to return the rack and finish his shift.

* * *

 

Last call is never really last call. The club closes at two a.m. but the DJ is playing well after that. Yuri attempts helping Georgi and Mila clean up the bar, but he knows he’s too distracted. He opts, instead, to head for the dressing room to collect his things and sort out his tips.

Yuri pulls his hair from the ponytail it’s been in for the past six hours and shakes out his blonde mane so that it falls to the small of his back. He doesn’t even want to think about the damage he’s doing to his hair.

Looking into the mirror he grimaces noticing the body glitter he dusted himself with has practically disappeared. At least there was still highlight on his cheeks.  
After inspection, he drops himself at the table to do his check out. Yuri Plisetsky was always good at math, but combine that with liquor and he was lost. Despite his best efforts his mind kept wandering: focusing on the memories of dark haired DJ and his amazing eyes.

Yuri rakes his fingers threw his hair in frustration, and has to steady his hand from throwing his phone into the wall in front of him. Some time later, with Georgi’s help, Yuri swiped up his tips. He pulls out his cellphone from his hoodie pocket: 3:45 a.m. With a groan, he shoves it back and hauls his backpack over his shoulder to head back out.

A bundle of knots settles in his stomach as he walks back to the main floor of the club. It looks completely different with the lights turned on and the crazy amount of trash that sticks to the floor with booze. Yuri’s still adjusting to the brightness of the space, but he tries to scan the empty dance floor to see if he can catch any sign of the man that had spun that night. Unfortunately, the stage was void of any equipment and there was no sign he was there. Yuri kicks at an empty beer bottle and watches as it rolls out. What perfect fucking timing.

“If you’re looking for Otabek he just left,” Chris says from where he is counting cash.

It’s in one of those tones that sounds all knowing, and it pisses him off even more. “Who says I was looking for anyone, ya old man!” Yuri fumes. His boss just smiles one of his creepy ass smiles and thumbs in the direction of the door.

“You could catch him if you hurry,” Yuri grits his teeth and shoving his belt and tabulations into the man’s chest stomps in the direction of the entrance.

“To hell with you! I’m going home!”

* * *

 

Yuri curses as loud as he can when he’s met with the rain that is pounding on the streets. The clubs on the strip have all dimmed their neon lights and the only way he can see is by adding his phone’s flashlight to the flickering street lamps above.

He hated getting out at four in the morning. Four in the morning was this weird, liminal space where there were no signs of life. It was the polar opposite of the rage of the club, and the difference always made him uneasy. At least when he usually got out there were still people and uber. He pulls his hood over his ears because it is fucking freezing outside and he begins his trek alone to his bus stop.

Careful to dodge the puddles and holes of the sidewalk his mind is elsewhere. Chris must have known that Yuri was looking for the DJ performing that night. Otabek Yuri thinks; it’s an odd name but it rolls around in his head nicely. He thinks again of the dark eyes and the rough feel of fingers brushing over his.

And suddenly the revving of an engine echoes over the music in his earbuds.

Yuri pauses his music but keeps walking trying to seem nonplussed. He’s about a block away from his bus. If he needs to, he can just run into the Quick Trip on the corner by his stop. The sounds of a bike continue behind him and Yuri picks up his pace just a bit not minding the puddles anymore. He feels like he should be used to assholes following him, but the fact that he’s got about $200 in tips in his pocket hikes up his adrenaline.

He looks down at his phone as he walks scrolling through the list of contacts. The entirety of the world was asleep by now, and Chris would still be handling the profits of the night his phone still on ‘Do Not Disturb’. Yuri wants to turn around and shout at the wheels behind him, but he knows it wiser not to. Instead, he keeps his thumb hovered over the green call button on Chris’ contact just in case.

Reaching the lights of the convenience store gives Yuri enough courage to begin a sprint to his stop, and luckily the bus hasn’t taken off yet. He swipes his card quickly and throws himself through and into one of seats. Once home, he runs up the four flights of stairs choosing not to look out onto the street until he’s safely in his apartment.

The darkened silence of his own space floods him with relief and he lowers himself to the floor pressing his head against the tile.

In the distance he can hear the rumble of a motorcycle as it speeds away. The sounds of the engine begin to fade and Yuri realizes he’s been holding his breath.

What the actual fuck.

* * *

 

“It could have been your guardian angel, ya know?” Georgi observes as he’s testing the soda dispensers the next night. Yuri reaches over the bar and takes an olive. 

“No such thing as guardian angels in this part of the city,” he retorts stuffing the olive in his mouth. Georgi gives him an amused look.

“Well if they’d been planning on raping and or murdering you, they would have done it. ” Arms sneak around Yuri’s bare waist making the blonde yelp in surprise. He feels Chris’ stubble rub against his shoulder and he really wants to risk his job by elbowing the man.

“If anyone tried to murder our little Yuri we’d give them a run for their money,” he purrs. A shiver runs up Yuri’s spine and he struggles against the older man to be let go. Chris’ grip tightens and Yuri grumbles. “Though really, Yurio - if you need it you can always come home with me in my car.”

“Ugh, you’re just as creepy as a fucking stalker!” Yuri argues finally swatting his boss away. He gives Chris a glare. “And besides I’ve heard what you’ve done in that car. Absolutely no fucking thank you.” Chris just laughs and Georgi continues to prep the bar. Yuri glares and this time grabs an olive to throw at Chris.

In reality, Yuri knows that he has nothing to worry about working under Chris Giacometti. The man was a friend of a family friend and claimed himself to be Yuri’s midnight guardian.

Ten years old than him, Chris was the owner of two shitty gay clubs on the strip. They weren’t really shitty because Chris had his MBA and was an unnaturally talented entrepreneur, but Yuri refused to admit that out loud.

Chris let Yuri work there despite being seventeen when his grandfather decided to retire from city law enforcement and take his pension to live in an old folks home. Not wanting to burden his grandpa in any way, Yuri decided to stay in their apartment.

A year later, Yuri had the apartment, the job, and about $500 in tips every couple of weeks.

Chris reaches out and pinches at Yuri’s cheek. “My little flaxen haired angel,” he coos. Yuri bites at the the fingers on his face, but they’re quickly take away.

“Otabek! You’re early!” Chris waves. Yuri forces himself still but his knuckles are gripping the bar stool so tight he’s losing circulation.

“I wanted to make sure that I had time to set up my equipment,” A deep voice responds. Yuri gradually loosens his grip and turns the stool around.

“Yuri darling,” Chris sings gesturing to the man clad in a leather jacket, “This is Otabek Altin: part time DJ, part time student, part time eye candy,” Otabek seems unperturbed by the comment and nods in introduction. “Otabek, this darling cherub is Yuri Plisetsky.”

“Nice to meet you,” Otabek replies and Yuri swears his voice sounds like velvet.

“Same,” Yuri manages to croak. He’s suddenly very aware of Otabek’s obsidian eyes and olive skin. The other seems to be waiting for more, but Yuri’s brain can’t think of anything.

* * *

 

It takes Yuri all of two hours to remember why he fucking hates bottle service. Just about every man in the club, and even some women, have grabbed his ass and made a pass for his dick.

It takes every bit of persuading Mila has to keep Yuri from driving the spikes on the side of his Jeffrey Campbell’s into a particular handsy customer’s shin.

She’s dragging him into the bathroom, “Yuri you need to chill,” she reprimands. Yuri rolls his eyes at the redhead, but she doesn’t let up her admonishments. “Maybe you need to be on shot duty again.” Her suggestion grabs at Yuri’s attention. If he is passing out shots, he’s free to roam.

As he’s walking back to the bar, he shoves the bottle of Belvedere into the ice bucket in front of his previous customers.

“Hey baby,” the one with the hands grins, “You gonna drink with me?” Yuri is ready for a verbal offense, but holds his tongue and turns away to grab the shot rack from Georgi.

Out of the dance floor again, he sees Otabek spinning calmly. He hardly looks interested in the music, but when Yuri looks closely he sees otherwise. The DJ’s head is bobbing slightly and the intensity of his eyes make Yuri want to melt.

Fuck, he was beautiful.

The response he had received from last night’s free shot was mild at best, so this time Yuri makes Georgi prep a vodka soda; a drink that Yuri knows is popular with everyone. Yuri pumps himself up and pushes his way back through the crowd.

It takes all of three minutes until he’s planted in front of the stage again. Otabek, like yesterday, is so wrapped up in his work that he still doesn’t notice him. Yuri once again pushes the drink forward to catch the DJ’s line of vision. It must catch the man off guard because he his hand stills against the keyboard.

Otabek presses a key, and the music hits a steady tempo. He wipes his hand against his jeans and reaches out to take the glass from Yuri. After inspection, Otabek takes a sip and Yuri falters thinking that he’ll just resume his spinning.

But he doesn’t and he looks at Yuri with an appreciated glance. He nods again and his lips turn slightly upward. Yuri nods back, and Otabek is grabbing his phone and scrolls for a moment. His thumb taps one or two times, but then he is handing the phone to Yuri. It’s a playlist, and Yuri realizes that the DJ has asked him to pick the next song.

Yuri about dies.

It is imperative that Yuri’s choice in music not only reflects him as a person, but also does not disrupt Otabek’s image as a DJ. He’s nervous and dammit he just needs to find one song, right? Abruptly, he stops scrolling and hits a song he knows his decent.

Yuri is stumped when a chorus and drums almost burst his eardrums. Clamping a hand over one ear he looks at the song. This was not what he wanted to choose. He looks up at Otabek embarrassment reddening his cheeks.

Otabek crooks his eyebrow at him amusement lining his lips. Yuri would think it was sexy if he wasn’t completely humiliated. He watches as Otabek taps the keys of his board and the song is infinitely more bearable. The crowd continues to dance probably too drunk to realize the change in genre.

Yuri stands off to the side now and listens as Otabek transitions his choice back into the EDM that had been playing before. He runs a hand through his hair annoyed with himself. He should have just stuck to bottle service. As he worms his way through the crowd, he doesn’t realize the pair of eyes that follow him.

When the club has finally cleared, an hour later than closing, Yuri is sitting with Mila at a table breaking up the tips from their shift that evening. Why people would pay $500 for alcohol is beyond him, but it pays his bills. Who is he to judge?

Mila is cackling as Yuri tells her how bad he’d blown it that evening, “You get to make a request and you pick a damn Opus?!,” she’s wiping at her eyes, “You’re such a loser, Yuri!”

“Shut the fuck up you hag. It was a mistake!” he slams his fist on the table for emphasis, and Mila laughs harder. She settles down still chuckling and takes a drag of her cigarette flicking the ashes into the tray between them. “I hope you fucking choke and die,” Mila responds by blowing smoke into his face.

“If I do, I’m taking you with me,”

“pfft” Yuri rolls his eyes and leans back counting out his side of the tips. He lifts his head to say something snarky to Mila, but instead he squeaks and almost knocks himself off his seat.

Otabek is standing by the redhead staring at him intently, and the fear of falling plus his embarrassment from earlier bubbles up in him. “What the actual FUCK!” The DJ doesn’t react, but Mila takes the now burnt out butt of her cigarette and chucks it at Yuri.

“Forgive my foul-mouthed friend,” she apologizes, “We forgot to wash his mouth out with soap earlier.” Growling still, Yuri pushes his chair back and swipes his wallet from the table.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” Otabek says making Yuri pause, “I should have made sure there wasn’t anything other than club music,” He looks so sincere, and Yuri wants to relax the grimace that’s on his face. But he’s also seven-teen and still an asshole.

“Yea, well why do you have that kind of crap with you anyway?” he retorts.

Otabek shrugs and answers calmly, “Because I like it,” the answer contains no fight, and Yuri is left silent.

“I guess,” he grumbles and sits back down his fuse suddenly dowsed. Mila watches the exchange with interest.

“Otabek, my dear, you are probably the first person to shut down Yuri Plisetsky.”

* * *

 

Luck must not be on his side because tonight it is snowing.

He tugs his hoodie farther over his head fuming. Who knows if the buses are even running now? He takes out his phone and presses a speed dial that connects him to transit. He gets an automated response.

_‘Apologies, but as of 2:00 a.m. all bus services have been discontinued till further notice. Visit the Transit Authority on Twitter at @DCTA for updates’_

His foot connects to the alley wall multiple times throwing curses into the cold. Tantrum thrown, he looks up the quickest way to his apartment. A forty minute walk is do-able, but in the snow Yuri knows it’s going to suck.

“You lost?”

Yuri whips his head around. Otabek is shutting the back entrance behind him and staring at Yuri blankly.

“What’re you still doing here?” the blonde questions. Before Otabek can answer Yuri gestures to the powder that is covering the ground, “I’m just here admiring the snow!” Otabek remains straight faced and Yuri shoulders slump. There will be no getting a rise out of this guy, and his sarcasm fades. “I’m trying to find a way to walk home,”

“Same,” Otabek finally sounds mildly discontented, “I brought my bike to work, but I can’t drive it home in this.” Yuri perks up at that.

“A bike?”

Otabek nods, and Yuri would think it cool if it weren’t for the fact that the night before a bike almost killed him. He takes a step back skeptically.

“You the one stalking me last night?” Finally, Yuri gets a reaction. Otabek’s eyebrows crease up on his forehead clearly confused. He takes a minute to think before opening and then closing his mouth again.

“I…It was dark…” he admits, “I didn’t think it was safe to be by yourself so late at night.”

The act of chivalry stuns Yuri and he laughs out loud in relief and irony.

“Dude, I thought you were going to kidnap me!” He lets out another laugh and Otabek is smiling at him sheepishly.

“I guess I didn’t think,” he chuckles, “Sorry about that.” Yuri is feeling infinitely calmer and he makes up the weird distance he had placed between them.

“S’kay,” he snickers, “So where do you live?”

“About ten minutes from here, actually,” Otabek shows Yuri the directions on his phone. The blue lines that map out the route seem oddly appealing. Yuri thinks for a moment and a mischievous grin plays at his lips.

“Well, looks like we’re going to your place then!” he exclaims plucking Otabek’s phone into his hands and clicking ‘Start’ on the map.

“Excuse me?” Heavy footsteps are now following him. Yuri smiles over his shoulder at his co-worker.

“I’m wearing heels,” Yuri states matter of factly holding up his foot,“ I can’t walk fucking forty minutes in these,” he really could though. He’s done it plenty of times, but he feels like this will be more interesting. Otabek is still very much concerned, but Yuri looks to have made up his mind so he shrugs and continues to follow in silence.


	2. 24 ~ Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s the oldest of three kids: both sisters. His dad was a professor at the University; his mom gave private piano lessons. The cat’s name was Sofia and she spent most of her time in his closet on her cat tree. The DJing thing happened at a party when he was sixteen and someone said he was good at it. It was a way to make extra money and a way to impress both the men and women he pursued. 
> 
> And no, he never realized he looked brooding all the time.
> 
> “Because you totally do,” Yuri insists, holding up his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all of the kudos and comments, everyone <3 I'm really glad that you've enjoyed. 
> 
> If you want to chat about Otayuri, YOI, or fun things in general catch me on tumblr at livelaughsleepeat.tumblr.com

The first thing Yuri notices entering Otabek’s apartment is how unbearably  _bare_ it is. A studio apartment not much bigger than his own, it had a bed to sit on and not much else. Yuri made note of the bookshelves that line an entire wall and a tv that sits on the shelf nearest them. It’s neat save for a box of cords and equipment that spilled over slightly.  
  
He could have at least added a chair or something.  
  
Yuri slips his shoes off by the door and hands Otabek back his jacket. Somewhere in their ten minute walk, Yuri realized that his hoodie wasn’t nearly as thick as he needed. And because Otabek was apparently the epitome of a gentleman, he draped his own jacket over Yuri’s shoulders.  
  
The action may or may not have caused Yuri to flush.  
  
“You can sit wherever,” Otabek gestures to the empty floor, “I’m getting something to drink,” Yuri takes a seat on the by the bookshelves and scans them running a finger over the bindings. _Memory and Cognition, Mental Health Counseling, Death, Grief, and Coping_ .  
  
“You’ve got some really fun literature here, Otabek,” he muses. He can hear the man chuckle from the kitchen, “Guess you want to be a shrink?”  
  
“Something like that,” Otabek returns and hands Yuri a mug of tea. Yuri grasps it tightly letting the warmth spread through his hands and he lets out a contented sigh. The other man joins him leaning against one of the other shelves. “What about you?” he questions.  
  
Yuri snorts, “I’m not in school,” he takes a sip of his tea, Otabek looks like he’s waiting for more because of course he is. “College is for people with brains or money. I have neither.”

It’s a half truth. Yuri knew he was smart. It was the reason they let him skip the second grade. But college was expensive, and a police officer’s pension can only go so far.

He’d like to go to school, someday.

But he doesn’t want Otabek to know that. Instead he continues, “I’m discovering myself,”  
  
“And so what have you discovered?” Otabek is examining him with interest one arm resting on a propped knee. Yuri, thinking, raises his mug to finish the last of his tea.  
  
“Apparently, that if you work at a club you can get therapy for free,” he smugly suggests.  Otabek’s mouth twists into a smirk.  
  
“Who said anything about it being free?” Yuri’s smile widens at the joke, “No, I won’t analyze you unless you want me to.” Yuri nods and hands the cup back to Otabek who takes the glasses to wash in the sink.  
  
Sliding further onto the floor, Yuri rests his head against a shelf and pulls out his phone to scroll through instagram. He had been tagged in a few photos earlier that night by Mila and one from the guy from bottle service.  
  
Yuri untags himself.  
  
It hits him then that it’s now four in the morning and that he is in a stranger’s apartment, but he isn’t the slightest bit worried. Like Georgi had said, if Otabek was mal-intended, Yuri would be in trouble by now. But he hadn’t and he didn’t feel any imminent danger.  
  
In fact, Yuri felt down right cozy.  
  
The DJ started music from a random speaker on his countertop. Something in a foreign language that he somewhat recognizes. The music is mellow and the warmth from the tea has spread and his hoodie has always been comfortable. He’s still on instagram when he chooses to rest his eyes for just a moment.

* * *

 

A tickling feeling on his cheek is what wakes Yuri in what feels like moments later. Vision coming to focus, he sees that the tickling is from the whiskers of a large grey cat. A happy noise escapes from his throat. He reaches out to pet it, but the movement startles the cat and it bounds out of his line of vision.  
  
He’s rubbing a hand over his face when he realizes he must have fallen asleep. Yuri doesn’t know how it’s happened but he’s buried into a thick duvet cover. It takes a minute to untangle himself, but then his phone is missing, and then it dawns on him exactly where he is.  
  
Otabek is standing at the countertop. He’s now wearing glasses and has changed into sweats and a t-shirt.  
  
“Welcoming back to the world of the living,” he greets, “Your phone is plugged into the wall by the bed.”  
  
It’s one o'clock in the afternoon. There are about a thousand missed calls from _literally_ everyone. He quickly presses the first missed call and it only rings once.  
  
“YURIO!” He pulls the phone far from his ear as the receiver explodes in Russian, “Yurio, where are you?! I’ve been calling since nine, and you haven’t answered. And Yakov said he went to check on you and Chris didn’t know if you ever got home. I thought you were dead and -”  
  
“Holy shit, Viktor shut up!” Yuri catches the volume in his voice and from the corner of his eye he sees Otabek is watching him. Quickly lowering his voice, he switches to Russian too, “It was snowing, so I went back to a friend’s place that is closer to the club. I’ll be heading to my apartment in a second,”  
  
He hears Viktor translating in the background. “That’s not going to happen, Yurio,” chimes another voice. Victor’s got him on speaker with his goddamn fiance, “A lot of roads have been shut down today. I don’t think your bus will be running?” Yuri fingers for the blinds at the bedside and pulls them open.  
  
It’s white on white on white with snow and ice; Yuri groans loudly. “Viktor can try and come get you from your friends-”  
  
“Don’t worry about it Katsuki,” he interjects, “I’ll check the routes, and I’ll check my options. I don’t need you or that idiot driving around in this snow.”  
  
“Ah Yurioooo,” Viktor cries, “That’s the sweetest-” Yuri ends the call before the man can say another word..  
  
“You can can hang out here if you’d like,” it’s said a minute later rather cautiously. Yuri looks up from where he stares at twitter to Otabek. “The news said the roads will be cleared tonight, tomorrow at the latest.”  
  
Yuri would be totally okay with that. However, he’s got yesterday’s sweat and someone had spilled alcohol staining his clothes. His face feels ruddy. He feels itchy.  
  
In the silence, Otabek seems to understand. “I’ve got some clothes that might fit you, and there’s laundry downstairs,” he answers, “All I’m doing today is reading. It’ll be fine,”  
  
Fine.  
  
The water is scalding and helps release the tension that had been previously built into Yuri’s shoulders. Despite having the courage to invite himself over to a stranger's home, he hadn’t thought ahead. It gave him the feeling he used to get when his grandpa couldn’t pick him up from school. Back when he’d sit with a teacher outside as the sun went down. Otabek really didn’t seem to mind, and his voice was completely reassuring, but the feeling still nagged.  
  
The shampoo smells like rosemary and peppermint. There is a spare toothbrush. Even the shorts Otabek gives him fit on his waist. Whatever magical Cinderella shit he’s gotten himself into better last.  
  
When he steps out of the shower Otabek is back at the countertop leaning forward onto his laptop. He’s scrolling every so often; Yuri guesses he’s probably reading for class. The cat has joined him weaving in between his legs meowing for attention.  
  
“Thanks for the shower,” he says unceremoniously. Otabek lifts his head away and takes off his glasses.  
  
“Glad I could be of service,” he closes his laptop and stretches. Yuri barely notices the strip of skin that shows beneath his t-shirt.  
  
They stand awkwardly for a few minutes just staring at eachother. And then Yuri’s stomach makes an embarrassingly loud noise. Otabek cracks another smile.  
  
“You want something to eat? I can make...uh….”  
  
Otabek opens the fridge to reveal almost absolutely nothing except for maybe a potato and some sour cream.  
  
They two gape at the emptiness of the fridge and, wow, it’s sad.  
  
“Wow dude” Yuri comments with a low whistle, “and I thought I was struggling…”  
  
Otabek narrows his eyes at him. “Nonsense, there’s plenty here.” Otabek reaches for the lone potato and gives a narrowed stare. “See - We can share.”  
  
With an eye roll Yuri sighs and rolls up his sleeves. “Nah, leave it to me”  
  
An hour later and Yuri was fishing balls of dough from the boiling water onto a folded napkin Apparently Otabek had no clean plates..  
  
The kitchen was still littered with flower, cheese, and salt borrowed from a kind, older woman across the hall. Otabek had stayed out of the kitchen noticing that Yuri got into a flow when cooking.  
  
Yuri turns off the stove, motions and Otabek walks into the kitchen and peers over his shoulder.  
  
“You made Pelmeni?”  
  
“Vareniki,” Yuri corrects. Otabek gives him a disagreeing look before reaching down and popping the dough in his mouth. Astoundingly, he isn’t burned, but he does look surprised.  
  
“Potato, cheese, dough, in Kazakhstan, this is pelmeni … and it’s good,” the compliment makes Yuri pink at the ears and he grabs a dumpling to eat too.  
  
“Well, in Russia we call these vareniki,” he adds. The vareniki, or pelmeni, or whatever it is, is perfect and warm in his stomach. He thinks his grandpa would be proud.  
  
In the span of their meal, Yuri learns more about Otabek than he has the last twelve hours.  
  
He’s the oldest of three kids: both sisters. His dad was a professor at the University; his mom gave private piano lessons. The cat’s name was Sofia and she spent most of her time in his closet on her cat tree. The DJing thing happened at a party when he was sixteen and someone said he was good at it. It was a way to make extra money and a way to impress both the men and women he pursued.  
  
And no, he never realized he looked brooding all the time.  
  
“Because you totally do,” Yuri insists, holding up his phone. On instagram, Mila had posted a picture of Otabek at the stage. His mouth was in a thin line and his eyes narrowed. “You look like you’re ready to kick someone’s ass.”  
  
The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging, an ease settling over the two. The two fell into companionship quite easily. Otabek leans on the counter finishing his reading (it was better for his back). Yuri stretched out on the floor by the closet spends the day coaxing Sofia out. The cat is eventually purring into Yuri’s shoulder and the blonde’s snapchating for the next two hours.

At some point, Yuri gets tired of saying Otabek over and over to show him all the pictures of the cat. To remedy, it was quickly shortened to Beka, and Otabek didn’t seem to mind.

* * *

 

By the evening, the snow hadn’t melted quite enough, and Yuri turned from the window with the longest, exasperated sigh. Clearly he would not be leaving tonight.  
  
He typed into the groupchat that Viktor and Yuuri had added him to:  
  
**Me** : _staying at my friend’s again_

He looks out the window again trying to will the snow to melt, but to no avail.

 **Katsudon** : _Stay Safe, Yurio!_  
  
**Vitya (sucks)** : _Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do Yurio >;) _  
  
He throws his phone onto his hoodie and slumps down beside it. Otabek had said he wouldn’t mind Yuri staying another night. Class hadn’t started up so he was free, yet Yuri still tug in his brain reminding him that he had literally met this person two days ago.  
  
He shakes his head ridding the intrusive thought, nothing he could do about it now.

Instead he leans his hands on his knees to look at the textbooks. One in particular grabs his attention, and he pulls it out and flips to a random page.

_‘In the origin and manifestation of mental health symptoms, gender differences have long been noted for some disorders. Some disorders show a higher prevalence rate for male patients (such as antisocial personality) than females…’_

Yuri scans in intrigue flipping a few pages. He stops when he notices scrawl in the margins.  
  
_Sabina_ , it reads. Then, there are several check marks along the paragraphs. The method of coping is highlighted with even more writing.  
  
“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s rude to snoop,” something grabs at Yuri’s chest like he’s been caught doing something awful. He looks up and Otabek is standing above him hair freshly washed and a towel draped down his bare chest. He quickly gets to his feet and hands Otabek the book. Yuri inhales and the rosemary that was in the shampoo fills him.  
  
“Who’s Sabina?” He blurts out. Otabek looks down to the book and then back to Yuri’s still startled face.  
  
“My sister was diagnosed with major depressive disorder when she was fifteen,” he says automatically.  
  
“And that’s why you want to become -”  
  
“A clinical psychiatrist, yes.” Otabek finishes, and Yuri’s ninety nine percent positive he’s upset him. The kazakh man runs a hand up the undercut of his hair and sighs. He takes a moment before giving Yuri an apologetic glance.  
  
“Sorry, it’s not something I’m used to talking about.” Yuri nods in understanding.  
  
“My mother ran off with her boss and now they have two kids and a dog together.” the words rush out needy. He shuts his mouth tight but then continues, “I’ve lived with my grandpa since I was five. And now I hang out with my neighbor and his husband and work at a stupid club,”  
  
He stops and worries his bottom lip watching Otabek for any reaction. His gaze has already softened and there’s a sympathetic quirk at his lips.  
  
“I’m just as screwed up,” Yuri finishes. The kazakh man smiles.  
  
“Not a contest,” Otabek returns, “But thank you,” the smile makes Yuri infinitely calmer.

For dinner, they finish off the rest of the dumplings while watching Netflix on Otabek’s bed.

“Hey, Beka” Otabek turns as Yuri is pulling his phone in front of them. He sticks a thumb at the older boy and smiles wickedly before clicking the side of his phone. Otabek is still not smiling, but Yuri figures that’s how most of his pictures will end up.  
  
He’s editing the photo on instagram when he realizes something, “What’s your social media stuff? I’ll tag you,” Otabek pauses his laptop and scratches at his head. His answer stuns Yuri, “What the fuck do you mean you don’t use social media?!”  
  
“It’s just not my thing,” Otabek answers, “I use it for business and gigs, but that’s it.”  
  
“That’s not happening,” Yuri is quick to reply. He spends the next hour working on Otabek’s instagram and attaching it to twitter and facebook. Then he tags the photo he was working on and posts it.  
  
The light of Otabek’s phone goes off and he opens the notification and makes a face. “Living with my bitches #live…” he reads, “this is going to be the fastest I’ve ever lost a friend,”  
  
“If you’re not into the Chainsmokers then you’re a horrible DJ and I don’t _want_ to be your friend,”  
  
“Would you rather me play Beethoven?” the teasing tone makes Yuri flush with embarrassment all over again. He didn’t think he would remember.  
  
“Fuck you, Beka,” he pushes playfully.  
  
“Can I at least get a kiss first?” the words immediately put Yuri in his place. For a moment he thinks the other is serious, but then Otabek is laughing. Pulling away from Otabek’s gaze, he looks back at his phone. It’s now one a.m. Yuri grabs a pillow from the edge and throws it over onto his things.  
  
“I’m going to sleep. I’m going to get out of here tomorrow,” He climbs off the bed and down back to the duvet that he had had this morning. Otabek is still chuckling when he turns off the lights and turns on the his speakers.  
  
Save for the music they lay there in comfortable silence. Yuri looks up and stares at Beka who is now holding onto to Sofia as he reads from his phone. He looks so mature and completely different from the Otabek who spun at the club. Otabek notices he’s being watched and looks at Yuri over his glasses.  
  
Yuri quickly slumps down under the duvet heart pounding.  
  
“Goodnight, Beka,” he calls from under the cocoon. From there he hears Beka shifting and a light shut off once more.  
  
“Goodnight, Yuri.”

 

 


	3. Day Trippin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It looks like your favorite person is requesting bottle service tonight,” at this Mila lets out a cackle. Yuri grits his teeth at Chris who is still smiling. He clutches and releases his fist over and over trying to stay calm.
> 
> He really might end up killing his employer tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for your kudos and comments!! The support makes the preteen fanfiction writer from 2005 inside me cry with joy.

Over the course of the next three weeks, Yuri learns that Otabek only plans to work the weekend shifts at the club: Thursday through Saturday. It doesn’t disappoint him. He’s just annoyed because the schedule means there isn’t a person Yuri can stand being around for three consecutive nights.

So, in actuality it disappoints him a lot.

The blonde spends the beginning of his week going through his normal routine: doing chores around his house (Monday), going to play cards with his grandfather (Tuesday), and assisting Lilia with dance classes (Wednesday).

By Thursday, he can’t keep still and his knee bobs repeatedly while he eats dinner with Viktor and Yuuri.

“You’ve got somewhere you need to be?” Viktor chides after Yuri lets out probably his fiftieth sigh of the evening.

“Yea, work.”

He’s still shoveling rice from his pork cutlet bowl but he can tell they’re both staring. Without looking up and his mouth still fool he growls, “Wha?!”

“You just seem very agitated,” Yuuri begins and Viktor scoffs at the comment, “more than usual,” he adds.

“Did something happen that you need to tell us about?” Viktor offers. The concern in his voice makes Yuri roll his eyes. “You just seem to be in a hurry to get to work. Is there something wrong with your finances? You know I’ve always -”

“There’s nothing wrong!” he huffs, “I’m just…” he stops himself and looks at both Yuuri and Viktor waiting expectantly. “I just made friends with the new guy. That DJ…” his voice comes out softer than he intends. A shit eating grin is starting on Viktor’s face; Yuuri looks relieved.

“You made _friends_ with the DJ,” Viktor repeats, “Just _friends?”_ the implication makes Yuri take his chopsticks and hurl them at the older man.

“Just friends, Victor. I don’t fucking mate with my co-workers like you did,” he sticks an accusing finger at Yuuri who simply smiles already used to the blonde’s outbursts.

Viktor’s folding the napkin as he continues, “This wouldn’t be the friend you stayed with during the snow would it?”

“Duh,” Yuri tries to end the conversation by taking the leftovers of Viktor’s bowl and finishing it off. It’s silent again save for Viktor’s small snickers. Quiet the entire exchange, Yuuri leans forward both elbows resting on the table.

“I think it’s great that you’ve made a friend,” he states in that soft teacher’s voice of his, “You haven’t really had the chance to socialize since you graduated from High School. I’m proud of you.”

Yuri feels his face heat up at the comment. To avoid any more sap, he grabs the emptied bowls and rushes to the kitchen but not before turning to spit, “Whatever, Pig!” and, “Viktor, remember you said that you’d do my hair for work!”

“  да, Yuri!” he can still hear them laughing from the kitchen.

* * *

 

Viktor takes fucking forever to plait his hair the way he wants it, and Yuri is stumbling into the club fifteen minutes later than he needs to be. The dressing room meeting has already started, and Viktor is going to pay when Yuri comes home.

“Ah, Yurio,” Chris sing songs, “thank you for joining us.” Mila is snickering at him, and the other employees try not to stare. “You’re just in time to get your assignment.” Chris look up at him from his clipboard and smiles wickedly.

“It looks like your favorite person is requesting bottle service tonight,” at this Mila lets out a cackle. Yuri grits his teeth at Chris who is still smiling. He clutches and releases his fist over and over trying to stay calm.

He really might end up killing his employer tonight.

* * *

“And _then,_ my professor says, ‘No JJ, you’re absolutely correct.’ And, I mean, of _course_ I was!” Too much Gucci Guilty permeates the surrounding area. It almost makes Yuri gag as much as the crowd he delivers the second bottle of grey goose to … _almost._ The group of five watch as he sets down the vodka and arranges it like he’s supposed to along with the cans of Red Bull.

“Aww Yuri, look at that organization!! You treat us too well!”

Yuri tries to not look in the direction of the obnoxious voice. The guy’s not much older than he is, but his parents are loaded, so he is always fucking around. “Thirsty Thursday” is what JJ calls these nights. Yuri begrudgingly tried to make conversation once. Asked why he always came during Thursday evening.

“My college never has classes on Friday,” the man replied proudly, “I can sleep in as long as I want,”

Yuri nearly broke a bottle over his fucking face.

“Yuri, how’s your evening?” Its JJ’s girlfriend talking now: Isabella something or other. She’s older than JJ and a lot calmer. Usually, she’s the one dragging his ass out of the club. Yuri can’t imagine why she stays with him. But she’s the reason Yuri’s time as host generally ends well. At the end of the night it’s always her that’s pulling out JJ’s wallet for his tips.

He entertains the conversation, “Fine. Just Thursday.”

“Thirsty Thursday!” JJ and his buddies interject loudly. Isabella laughs then reaches to grab Yuri’s arm.

“Hey! Let whoever hired this new DJ know they’re awesome!”

Yuri flushes proud of his friend and nods. He leans over the railing and glances down to the dance floor below. Otabek is moving as calmly as always. Tonight playing old Daft Punk medleys for the club’s ‘#ThrowbackThursday’ theme.

He looks at the green and blue lights cascading on the wall. The genius that he is, Chris sets the displays up so the staff can know what time it is depending on the patterns and colors. It must be nearing twelve already. It’s probably a good time to head down and say hello.

Yuri picks up the empty tray and extra bucket and turns to leave. “Don’t fucking finish this as fast as the last one,” he calls over his shoulder. JJ takes a swig from the bottle in response and Yuri is back to his usual agitated state.

It’s always darker on the second floor and covered in cigarette smoke. Yuri hates it because one, Yuri takes longer to navigate it, and two, who even willingly smokes? He squeezes in between booths as he crosses. He feels someone grab his ass.

Except it’s not in the ‘I’m going to flirt with the bottle server’ type of way.

Yuri’s used to getting his assed pinched, smacked, slapped. It could have been part of the job description.

This is different. The person hits him with a rough smack and digs their nails into Yuri’s backside making him cringe in pain. Instinctively, he takes the tray and swings it out hard. It must be some stupid drunk, because when it connects he hears a yelp and the hand falls away. But then someone is grabbing at him again. This time they’re caught to his braid. Fingers are threading painfully through the plaits and roughly pull him. In a moment he loses his balance, if someone is really planning to fuck with him right now -

A different set of hands pull at his arm hard and his braid comes loose.

It’s JJ pulling him away.

“You alright, Yuri?” for once, he’s serious.

Yuri pulls his arm out of the older boy’s grip. He’s too stunned to process an answer so he continues down to the stairs. His eyes are out of focus and it isn’t until he’s slammed the door closed that he finds himself in the employee bathroom.

He inhales sharply; inspecting himself in the mirror. Obviously, his braid is a complete mess. And upon further observation he also sees red welts pulling up at the skin of his neck. Fucking wonderful.

* * *

Chris says that by the time he sends security up the person is gone. Yuri hadn’t gotten a look at them, so there really isn’t much else to do. He’s asked if he wants to take off for the rest of the night - obviously that’s a no.

Instead he and Seung-gil are partnered to finish bottle service together. Ascending to the second floor, Seung makes sure Yuri is farthest away from the guests. Yuri’s maybe said two words to the guy for the last year, but the action puts Yuri more at ease.

By the end of the night Yuri’s arm hurts like a mother. He manages to get some independence and run once or twice more to fill his guest’s ice buckets. He makes sure to find JJ and let’s him know that Chris has covered the tab. Though that doesn’t stop him and Isabella from sitting Yuri down and presenting him with a $300 tip.

“JJ feels guilty,” Isabella murmurs helping her partner stand, “I hope you feel okay.”

Back in the dressing room, Mila is pissed.

“I cannot fucking believe that happened to you!” She’s waving her cigarette in the air having ranted for the last half hour. “I would have gone up there and killed the person. You should have told me right when it happened.”

“Yea, well I needed to make sure that I wasn’t going to get attacked again.”

She goes quiet and her face is sympathetic. It’s the same look Isabella had given him earlier. It’s having the most adverse effect on him.

“I know you’re upset,” she murmurs reaching down and running a hand through Yuri’s hair. The blonde pulls away from her. “I’m sorry this happened,”

“ _Tch_ , it’s fine,” but it’s not fine, and Mila knows it. He’s been trying to shove the feeling down all night. The creeping shock, or was it fear, was overwhelming. It kept bubbling up in the back of his throat like bile, and the feeling made him want to smash something. When Mila leaves for the night he waits for the door to shut and he kicks at the foldable chair he’s been sitting on repeatedly.

He doesn’t feel relieved when it hits the wall with a clang.

“Hey,”

Otabek is standing in the doorway arms folded across his chest. Yuri is breathing heavily from repeatedly stomping on the chair. His hair is still out of its braid - he must look insane.

“Hey,” he rasps.

“Your hair is all sorts of fucked,” the DJ says simply. He walks towards Yuri and pulls the rest of the hair from the plait. Yuri winces still tender headed, but Otabek’s hands are gentle. Yuri feels fingers sweep through his hair and a few minutes later it’s flicked over his shoulder in a neat braid. He looks at the braid and then at Otabek who simply shrugs, “I’ve got little sisters,” he reminds him.

“Thanks” Yuri says. They stand in silence for a beat, “So Chris told you?”

“Chris told everyone _,”_ the blonde looks mortified so Otabek adds _“_ He said if he found out who it was we’d all go fuck them up suicide squad style” Yuri snorts at the thought.

“Chris just wants an excuse to wear a costume,”

Things are a lot calmer with Otabek’s around. His even tone makes the ache in Yuri’s throat settle. Minutes later, he realizes his body’s not so tense. So much so that before shutting off the lights, Yuri makes sure to right the chair he’d beaten.

They are the last to leave with Chris staying behind to file an incident report. At the doorway, looking out into the night, Yuri pauses. The flickering of the street lights, the stillness of it all makes him uneasy. Now, he was even more aware of how alone he’d be walking back.

“Yuri,” he’s got just enough time to catch the helmet Otabek chucks his way, “You’re coming with me,” It’s a statement rather than an offer. “Get on and wrap your arms around my waist. I don’t need you falling off.”

Silently, Yuri does as he’s told. Otabek waits till Yuri’s hands are secure around him to take off.

Yuri has been on a motorcycle plenty of times. The young men in his grandpa’s force were always giving him rides. But this, this was a different experience.

This was flying down an open road. This was the night whipping around him, and the rush of everything takes whatever anger Yuri has been holding onto and leaves it miles in the distance.

Yuri can feel the tensing and relaxing of Otabek’s arms and shoulders as he's working the clutch and brakes. He could very well lean back as long as his arms were secure, but the rhythmic way Otabek drove his bike was soothing in an unexplainable way.

Unfortunately, the trip is too quick. Yuri sees his complex come into view and his stomach drops in disappointment.

Instead he musters up his most sardonic voice. “You really are a stalker if you know how to get here,” He can feel Otabek’s stomach contract as he lets out a chuckle.

“You’re not going to let me live that down are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

Otabek makes sure he’s as close to Yuri’s apartment as he can get before he lets the other get off the bike.  In exchange for the helmet, he reaches inside of his jacket and pulls out a card.

“This is my number. Use it if you need something… or not…” his voice trails off.

“Thanks,” Yuri replies, “for the hair and ride and stuff.” Otabek nods before slipping his own helmet back over his head. “I guess I’ll text you to make sure you get home alive,”

The man on the motorcycle gives Yuri a thumbs up before revving his bike and making a wide u-turn towards the other side of town. The rear lights showing like strobes that played at the club that evening.

* * *

Despite the insane hours he pulled at the club that weekend, and despite all the hours of sleep he got afterwards, Yuri’s an early riser. Years of living on an officer’s schedule and being hauled to dance classes has refused to let him sleep in Monday morning.

He feels the stiffness in his body coming to consciousness. Rolling his ankles and then his wrists, the popping in his joints was a soothing sound to wake to. He goes through the stretches like another would go straight to brush their teeth in the morning. The movements are etched in his brain by his stupid, old dance teacher. And in some weird pavlovian-esque way, his body responds. By the time he’s slid to the floor into a split he’s fully awake. He arches back laughing in the face of Baranovskya.

Lose his flexibility as he got older his ass.

From this position he grabs his phone. He’s tagged in a photo on instagram. It’s Viktor and Yuri’s wedding invitation and he gags audibly as he comments.

_so tacky it hurts my soul #unfollow #yousuck #noonecares_

He also clicks like after the comment posts.

He’s scrolling through his tags when something catches his eye.

The photo was taken that Saturday as promotion for the club. Phichit had come and basically filled his camera roll with pictures. This one had Otabek leaning over his spinning table. It had been warm in the club that night so the man forwent his jacket and was working in a tight black undershirt. Across his shoulder, Yuri can make out that its cyrillic but it’s too far away to tell.

@ _intoxic8ed we like our DJ’s like we like our men, tall, dark, and good with his fingers._

Yuri gapes at the caption, but has to hit like because it’s his job. It disappears in the mix of the three hundred likes. The comments are a mix of advertisements and porn bots as always. He sees the familiar _@altinnalmaty:_

_The bottle service isn't bad looking either._

Yuri’s brows crease as he looks closer. Mila and Yuri were in the shot dancing together. The redhead had wound her hands over Yuri’s shoulders pressing flush against his back. Yuri had turned his head towards the camera fingers running through his loose hair.

He reads the comment over and over before he screenshots it and snaps it Otabek. A red circle underlines the comment and he writes:

 **Me:** _Sorry to burst your bubble bud, Mila is hella gay… like hella_

He sends it and lays down wondering if it’s the exertion from the splits that’s making his heart beat a little faster. He’s staring at the photo when he gets the notification that Otabek is writing back. Otabek was one of those old men that had to write out every punctuation and spell everything.

Yuri’s may just crush his phone.

In the time it takes Otabek to respond Yuri stretches more. Sitting back on the bed he leans all the way back to golden locks are sweeping the floor. His hands grip the sheets and he lets the blood rush to his head. Keeping his balance would keep his mind off of other things.

The buzz from his phone immediately has him toppling onto the floor. It’s very ungraceful, and he can hear Lillia yelling at him for it in his head. He probably should talk to someone about that.

 **Beka:** _That’s fine, but I wasn’t just talking about Mila._

Yuri feels flushed and it must be the blood that was rushing before. And his heart is thumping because he had taken that fall.

 **Me:** _Smooth, Altin._ He types fast and hits send three times. The ‘ding’ that follows seconds later makes him yelp.

 **Beka:** _Besides, I prefer blondes._

Yuri is not _at all_ impressed with whatever that response is trying to be and he closes out of snapchat deleting the conversation forever.


	4. A Little Help from My Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it to make sure that Yuri doesn’t screw up his set? Probably. But Yuri can’t help but lean back onto the broad chest and let him be guided through the song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> March is conference season at work/school, and my poor brain has been struggling to get this chapter out. Hopefully things will go quicker with the next few chapters.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who comments and kudos. Every kudo makes my puppy boof with joy.
> 
> Warning: Mentions of masturbation.

Chris tells him to take the next weekend off. Suggests chilling out and not working so hard.  
  
Fuck that.   
  
He knows the boss is still worried about the events that transpired two weekends prior. The person who groped Yuri was never found, and honestly Yuri didn’t care. If anything happened like that again, Yuri would make sure he was wearing his heaviest shoes and kick their ass to kingdom come.   
  
He thinks this as he shovels down the borscht his grandpa had sent home with him days before. Nikolai Sergeyevich Plisetsky was born in the slums of Moscow, and was raised to never skimp a deal. Therefore, Yuri came home with the entire fucking Costco and some leftovers to last him years.   
  
Yuri didn’t mind. Free food was the best food.   
  
He’s flipping through the clubs instagram yet again going back to the picture Otabek had commented on. The comment has long disappeared under the many other people looking for free shit, but Yuri knew it was still there. The thought of Otabek watching him made his cheeks burn.   
  
Otabek was now his ride from work on weekends. When they were not working, the pair were texting off and on. Apparently, Otabek got bored during his Tuesday night class because it was three hours long. He sends Yuri links to songs that he’s mixing or things that come up on his recommended Spotify playlist. Yuri feels it helps him learn a little more about the Kazakh man. Thinking about it, Beka was hot, but since the time that Yuri had stayed the night any attraction had been pushed to the back of his brain.   
  
Meaning, he’d only think about Otabek’s hot mouth and back while he was pumping himself in the shower.   
  
Yuri groans debating whether or not to drown himself in the borscht. He posts the thought on snapchat: gonna drown myself in the beets I’m so bored. Viktor sends him a thumbs up, Phichit sends the standard image of him gasping with a hand covering his mouth. None of these reactions are satisfactory, and he begins scrolling through his contact list.   
  
_Invite Beka to Snapchat?_ _  
_   
Of course he didn’t have a snapchat. Yuri hits invite and waits. Waits a few more seconds. Then decides to go back to his contacts and press call. It goes straight to voicemail and Yuri almost throws the phone against his countertop.   
  
He’s still gripping his phone when it buzzes with a text.   
  
Beka: what’s up?   
  
Yuri stares at the screen enraged at such a simple question.   
  
Me: I’m bored as fuck.   
  
The phone went silent. Yuri had to stick the phone on his bedside table in order to keep from focusing on the zero texts he was receiving.   
  
About a ten minutes later:   
  
Beka: Pick you up in an hour.   
  
He’s never bathed so fast in his entire life. He’s dressed and running the hair dryer through his hair with twenty minutes to spare. He’s tying up his top layers into a top knot when he gets Beka’s ‘Here’.   
  
Yuri’s practically flying as he races to Otabek’s bike. He’s already on the street hand holding out the second helmet for Yuri. He bites his lip from the sheer excitement of it all. He doesn’t even say hello just pulls the helmet over his face and wraps tightly around the man in front. He feels Otabek laugh and they speed off.   
  
His hair is whipping around him probably tangling in the wind, but Yuri doesn’t care. Otabek isn't going as fast as he does at night, but Yuri’s heart is thrumming as the zoom in and between traffic.   
  
They’re at a stop light when Otabek reaches behind him to hand Yuri his phone. It’s pulled up to directions for a cafe with a ‘?’ typed in the search bar. Yuri watches the light and quickly types. He hands it back to Otabek just as the light turns green.   
  
Yuri enjoys this nonverbal communication he has with Otabek. After several times riding on the bike together they had gotten into a groove. Yuri was able to move his body to steady the bike as it turned or when they had to signal to cars.   
  
Being on the motorcycle felt just as natural as knowing the driver.   


* * *

  
The bike slows outside the small cafe, _Barcelona_ . Inside the coffee shop is cramped with booths and plush chairs around actual dining tables.   
  
Night Beka, with his black muscle shirts and the mussed hair was God’s gift to earth, but Yuri found he appreciated the day Beka just as much. The man was wearing a dark grey waffle shirt and blue jeans that fit too well. His hair, which was normally gelled, fell naturally into his dark eyes.   
  
“Tea?”   
  
Yuri blinked up at Otabek.   
  
“Coffee or tea?”   
  
“Oh, coffee!”   
  
The pair were sitting at a booth in the café. Barcelona was apparently Otabek’s favorite place to study. Yuri never went to café’s purely for that reason: too many elitist assholes setting up shop for hours on end. He could never find a place to comfortably sit, and that really pissed him off. Plus, he could make coffee at home or take some of Viktor’s.   
  
He pulls his phone out but merely uses it as a prop to stare at the Kazakh man. He’s speaking to the barista like they’re best friends. She takes a glance at him and her smile instantly widens. Yuri disappears behind his phone after that not wanting to make contact. He’s very much aware that this is no longer his space. Quickly, the predicament is making him tense.   
  
The coffee is presented to him with latte art in the shape of a cat and Yuri has to keep himself from cooing at the cup. He takes the cup gingerly and stares at the foam and then up at Beka.   
  
“You like it?” he smiles. Yuri nods and feels his cheeks warm. Otabek sits down across from him taking a sip from his own cup. They’re both silent for a while. Yuri notices that Otabek’s coffee is basically milk and he lets a smirk slip that the other catches. He raises an eyebrow and Yuri points.   
  
“I thought you’d take your coffee black. Definitely wrong,” Otabek looks down at his cup and chuckles.   
  
“It’s the way my grandma prepared it.” He’s staring fondly now at the milky color, “I never got used to anything else.”   
  
“Okay, that’s adorable,” Yuri speaks before he thinks and he immediately moves his gaze to his own cup.   
  
“Adorable, huh?” the blonde looks up wishing he hadn’t tied his bangs from his face. Otabek is smirking mischievously at him and immediately Yuri’s face is burning.   
  
“Sarcastic,” Yuri attempts with as vile as possible. Otabek rolls his eyes and returns to sipping on his coffee.   
  
Silence settles between them again and Yuri tries not to focus on the fact that Otabek is focusing on him. He tries to feel around his mug zeroing in on the heat soaking into his fingers, the taste of the slightly burnt coffee and steamed milk. Yuri had not spent a day with Otabek since the day they were snowed in. Even then, it was quiet and he played on his phone. Coffee shops practically expected you to chat. Yuri looks again at Otabek, his soft expression, and the intense eyes that seemed more expressive than usual.   
  
Then Yuri spends the next few minutes examining his hair for split ends instead.   
  
“Yurio!”   
  
The voice sends an unnerving creep down his spine. Otabek’s grin falls as Yuri sinks down into the chair throwing his hoodie over his bright blonde locks.   
  
“YURIO!” he glances over his shoulder and Viktor has both hands cupping his mouth singing his name, “Yurio look over here!!!” Otabek is also watching them and leans down at the disappearing teen.   
  
“Do you know them?” Yuri rolls his eyes before nodding.   
  
“They’re my shitty neighbors,”   
  
“I would hardly call someone who practically feeds you every night ‘shitty’” Victor practically shoving him down the seat to join them. He extends a hand out to Otabek which he shakes with enthusiasm, “Viktor Nikiforov. I’m Yuri’s older brother,”   
  
“No he’s not!” Yuri cries swatting at the older man’s hands, “just because you’re fucking Russian doesn’t mean we’re related, you shit!”   
  
Viktor laughs loud and heartily and grabs the blonde to pull him into the hug. Yuri wants to ring his throat but then he remembers the DJ that is sitting right across from them. Otabek is amused as ever his chin resting on top of his fist as he observes the two. Yuri pulls from the older man dramatically and scoots towards the wall of the booth.   
  
“Viktor, please! People are starting to stare!” Katsudon admonishes. He is setting down to-go cups on the table and pulling a chair up next to his partner as he speaks. Viktor reaches over to link hands with his fiancé and pouts.   
  
“But I wanted to say hello to наш сын!” the Japanese man rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling fondly. Yuri makes a disgusted noise before taking another sip of his coffee.   
  
Viktor turns to Yuri tilting his head towards Otabek, “So, Yuri, who’s your _friend_ ?” knowing full well who the fuck it was. His hands clutch at the porcelain a little too hard.   
  
“Otabek Altin. I DJ at the club with Yuri,” Viktor’s eyes literally begin to shine with mirth.   
  
“Yuuri, love,” Viktor’s voice is becoming poisonously sweet, “It’s the Otabek Yuri’s told us all about,” The suggestive tone makes Yuri almost break the mug.   
  
“I did not!” he roars then turning to Otabek, “I did not!” then realizing what that sounds like quickly begins getting flustered, “I mean I mentioned we hung out, but I didn’t tell them anything else! I’m going to kill you Nikiforov!”   


* * *

  
Viktor is laughing again and Yuri looks like he may have a conniption. Otabek doesn’t know what to think so instead stares bewildered at Yuuri who in turn gives him an apologetic glance.   
  
“They tease,” the other man explains as Yuri begins to berate Viktor in Russian, “But I promise they love each other. Viktor’s known Yuri and his grandpa for a long time.” Otabek nods as he watches the small blonde boy explode with the colorful language he vaguely remembers from home.   
  
Realizing he’s being watched has never bothered him before, but Yuri now sees that Otabek is watching the exchange with Viktor. Immediately, Otabek watches his anger simmer and he calls Viktor a dick before kicking him swiftly under the table.   
  
“ мудак,” Viktor grunts rubbing at his leg roughly. Yuri smirks and then goes back to finishing up his coffee eyeing Otabek. Otabek is still confused, but Yuri is calming down and the other customers have stopped staring. Suddenly, he notices Viktor’s eyes are bright yet again, and his smile is turning wicked.   
  
“You said you were a DJ, Otabek?” his gaze is direct and Otabek swallows hard suddenly feeling very vulnerable. He nods and Viktor’s smile grows wider, “I’m sure Yuri’s told you that my Yuuri and I are getting married in May, correct?” Otabek’s at a loss for words and this time shakes his head, no. Viktor presses a finger to his smirk his eyes flitting to stare at the teen. Yuri is listening to everything carefully.   
  
“Yuuri, weren’t we just talking about how we still needed to hire someone to DJ for the wedding?” Both men’s eyes are suddenly on Otabek, and Yuri’s mouth drops.   
  
Yuuri’s expression looks pained but he nods, “I do,”   
  
“And I want to make sure our guests have a good time, so we’ll need someone excellent,”   
  
“Vitya -”   
  
“Otabek!” Viktor slaps the table, “Would you like to be the DJ for that night? Since it’s the weekend you’d have to miss work, but I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out with Chris and get you paid!” Yuri’s suddenly making signs at him using his hands to form an ‘x’ mouthing ‘DON’T DO IT!“. Viktor must notice the hesitation in his gaze because then he turns.   
  
“Yuri, you want Otabek to make a couple extra bucks don’t you? Besides - you’ll have someone to hang out and you won’t be - now what did he say Yuuri, love - ‘the only single one there’?” Color quickly rises to the teens face and he drops his hands and shuts his mouth.   
  
In the end - and Otabek doesn’t know how it happens - he gives Viktor and Yuuri his facebook and contact information so that they can book him properly. The couple take their leave and Yuuri stays behind a moment longer to apologize for the commotion. Viktor is waving at them in the window making hearts with his hands before Yuuri pulls him away by the ear and out of sight.   
  
Yuri falls over to lay across the booth seat with an exhausted sigh. “I am so sorry about that,” he murmurs weakly. Otabek leans to the side to meet Yuri’s gaze.   
  
“The only single one?” he teases. Yuri’s face again goes up in flames and he can’t help but notice how nice Yuri’s cheeks look when pink.   
  
Yuri swallows, “You don’t know how true that is,” he responds, “I swear they all coupled up within the last year and a half. Even Chris has a guy.”   
  
“Really?”   
  
“Never seen him,” Yuri is sitting up now, “no one has really. They’ll both be at the wedding though,” Otabek muses for a bit and lets a small smile form before finishing his now cold coffee.   
  
“I guess it is a good thing that I’ll be there then,” Yuri must catch his words because he’s back to staring at his tresses in between his fingers.   


* * *

  
“So you’ll need an hour to get ready,” Otabek is holding the door open to his apartment as Yuri stumbles through pulling things from his backpack.   
  
It’s Saturday, and Yuri had convinced the man to grab McDonalds before getting ready for work. Something about how Yuri knew there was zero food in Otabek’s fridge. Once again, he was right.   
  
Yuri’s pushing through the hallway kicking off his converse causing Sofia to dive back into Otabek’s closet. “I know I’m fucking perfect in every way, Beka. But beauty, it takes time!” He’s grabbing a small bag and a curling iron and rushing to the bathroom. Otabek is mildly annoyed when makeup spills into his sink because he needs to do his hair too, but Yuri is now climbing onto the counter. He settles with his legs draped over the edge and begins preparing his skin.   
  
“Make yourself at home I guess?”  Yuri grins all teeth and reaches for his phone. When it begins playing Cascada, Otabek cringes.   
  
“Seriously?” Yuri sticks his tongue out at the DJ before waving him away, “Jeez, didn’t realize that being a DJ makes you such a snob,”   
  
“Didn’t know being a teen entitled you to being a brat,” Otabek shoots back motioning to the way Yuri’s fit himself into the space. The blonde’s face magically looks innocent and he smiles at him sweetly.   
  
“Thank you, Beka,” The sincerity in his voice makes Otabek pause and his chest tighten, “I really appreciate it. Really,” Yuri turns to the mirror to pull his hair up and Otabek watches him for a minute before shaking the feeling away.   
  
“At least let me play something decent,”   
  
In the time that it takes Yuri to get ready, he’s read for class and has input data from his lab from his study. He’s watched the news _and_ has done his hair.   
  
In the bedroom/living area Otabek is changing into darker jeans and pulling off his shirt. He hasn’t done laundry in maybe two weeks, so his shirt options are very limited. He picks up a shirt that his youngest sister, Yana, gave him for his birthday. It’s bright teal and has bear from Ted on front. He stuffs it back in the drawer vehemently against it.   
  
“Hey Otabe-” Otabek turns and stops. Yuri is standing before him in eyelids smoked out and darkly lined. Otabek swears he’s never seen Yuri’s eyes so blue. His cheeks are dusted pink like how they were at the cafe and a sheen is on his lips.   
  
He’s wearing a very sheer blue top with what could only be described as a small, black crop top underneath. His hair is wavy now and cascades over his shoulder brighter and blonder than normal.   
  
Otabek swallows.   
  
Yuri must have been paused as well because he breathes out loudly, “Can I borrow some deodorant?”   
  
“In the medicine cabinet,” he says as normal as possible. Yuri nods before hurrying back to the bathroom.   
  
Otabek quickly pulls on the next t-shirt he grabs and moves to finish getting ready.   
  
He’s pulling on his boots when Yuri comes out again. He’s added a choker to his look and is wearing laced up boots that make him taller than Otabek.   
  
“Everything’s put away,” he states simply stuffing his things back into his backpack. Jackets are put on quickly, and once Yuri gets a look at the time he grabs Otabek’s sleeve and pushes him out the door.   


* * *

  
In the club everything seems to change. Otabek becomes this ultra sexy DJ that spins music better than Yuri’s ever heard. The shirt that he’s wearing is bright pink and very tight. Yuri’s has had Georgi make him three drinks already.   
  
Mila notices and hands him shots to give out with a knowing smile. Yuri flips her off but pushes himself into the crowd anyway. Shots are what get Otabek’s attention more than anything.

Besides, Yuri likes watching the bright colors slide down the pipe and into his mouth.

With the image in mind, he takes a shot himself.   
  
And then another.   
  
Before he knows it he’s grabbing bills and dancing against some of the girls in the crowd. He gets complimented on his hair and people are more generous with his tips. Someone finds their way to Yuri’s hips and he’s swinging them in time to the bass.   
  
“You’re pretty cute,” the voice behind him speaks and Yuri turns and smiles at the man handing him a shot.   
  
“That’ll be three dollars because you’re nice,” the guy laughs good naturedly before handing Yuri a five and telling him to keep the change.   
  
“I’m Alexi,” he announces before taking the shot. Yuri laughs as the guy: cute, dirty blonde hair and dark eyes, grimaces from the alcohol.   
  
“Yuri,” he yells before reaching to take the vial back. Their fingers brush and Alexi’s hand lingers against Yuri’s own. Yuri pulls back and places the shot glass back in its container. He steps back a bit and then smiles, “I’ve gotta get a free drink for the DJ, boss's orders!” Alexi nods telling him to come back to dance again.   
  
Tonight has been better than most nights working. Yuri’s swaying when he gets to Otabek and he hands him a bright pink shot to match his shirt. Otabek is concentrating on the screen of his computer his lips in a tight line. When he finally notices Yuri he smiles and motions to get on the stage. Yuri complies immediately resting the tray of shots at the edge. He hands Otabek the shot which is quickly taken and leans over to watch.   
  
Minutes later, hot breath is against his ear, “You want to mix for a while?” The hairs on the back of Yuri’s neck stand up at Otabek’s warm voice. He’s quick to push the feeling away because fuck yea he wants to mix!   
  
Otabek moves to let Yuri in between him and the table. Delicately, the DJ slides his headphones onto Yuri’s ears careful with his curled hair. He’s only ever watched people mess with the keyboards and he bites his lip as his hand slide down the keys. He looks at the computer screen and hits next.   
  
The song is steady. To Yuri, there’s not much to add. In the moment he feels a bit stumped.   
  
A hand sneaks its way to cover Yuri’s. Otabek moves them together to the left and he grips his finger to push down on a key. It creates a heavier bass that thrums through Yuri. He remembers the first time he heard Otabek play and how the music also felt like this. He can feel the DJ press closer to him in order to listen to the sound in the headphones and his breath catches as his hand is gripped again to press another key.   
  
Is it to make sure that Yuri doesn’t screw up his set? Probably. But Yuri can’t help but lean back onto the broad chest and let him be guided through the song. They add two types of snare. People on the floor seem really into it, but Yuri can only focus on the pressure of the other man’s body against his. They’re creating this mix together and that somehow makes Yuri feel lightheaded. But that could also be the alcohol talking. Either way, the excitement makes him sway his hips to the rise and fall of the chorus and he selects a new song to play with. Otabek’s hand falls on his hip and steadies him. Then one of the headphones is being lifted off his ear.   
  
“You’ll make us fall off the stage,” Otabek murmurs before pressing himself closer and Yuri’s flesh against the mix table. The move takes Yuri by surprise and Otabek uses the opportunity to end the song and start a new one.   
  
Yuri pouts at the act, “I thought you said you were going to let me mix!” The DJ smirks up at Yuri.   
  
“For a while,” he removes himself from against the blonde to take control of the table once again. Yuri sticks his tongue out and hops of the stage and back into the crowd. Their gaze meets as he grabs the rack of shots once more, but he doesn’t realize it follows him into the crowd.   
  
The club is a little crazier tonight than most nights, and the shots are done fast. Yuri spends the rest of the time in dancing around still feeling that buzzed sensation from earlier. He sees dirty blonde hair and taps Alexi’s shoulder to get his attention. Maybe he’d want to dance again.   
  
The older man turns and looks surprised to see Yuri.   
  
“Hey!” Alexi greets and he smiles sheepishly, “Sorry I didn’t get the hint before. You should have told me you had a boyfriend!”   
  
“Boyfriend?”   
  
“Yea! The DJ!”   
  
If there was a way that God struck him down, Yuri would say that that instance was it. His mouth hangs open and he feels flushed all over in embarrassment.   
  
“N - no!” he stumbles over the word, “He’s not my boyfriend,” Alexi looks at him quizzically and Yuri now wishes he’d stayed to dance with the pretty boy. “Not my boyfriend,” he repeats.   
  
“Well, I guess if you don’t want a label that’s cool?” Alexi gets tapped by another person and he looks back at Yuri, “Sorry, have to go! Enjoy your night!”   
  
He leaves and Yuri’s still planted to the ground.   
  
He needs another fucking drink.   


* * *

  
Yuri stumbles back into his apartment slightly drunk more or less. He texts Beka that he’s back in his room, and he swears that he can hear the motorcycle race off. Back in his apartment, Yuri presses his hoodie to his nose and smiles. There are traces of the rosemary from Beka’s shampoo from when he got ready earlier that night. He inhales and is filled. The smell is comforting and intoxicating at the same time. It reminds him of pelmeni and instagram and broad shoulders and glances through glasses and hands on his hips and hot breath on his neck.   
  
And Yuri doesn’t notice he’s slipped his hand under his leggings.   
  
Does not press the hoodie against him as he cants his hips to meet his strokes.   
  
Does not groan a name into the sweater as he comes.   
  
Does not kick off his ruined bottoms and climb into bed still clinging to the hoodie.   
  
No, Yuri doesn’t do any of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> наш сын - google says it means 'our son'  
> мудак - some Russian website says this means 'asshole'
> 
> Please correct me if I'm wrong. Ideas, Comments, Concerns are always welcomed.
> 
> Happy Friday! <3


	5. On Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s working because it allows him to push any annoyances from his brain. Annoyances meaning the fact that he was crushing on Otabek. Crushing may have not even been the right word: completely enamored? Enjoying the rapture of ‘like’. 
> 
> Either way, he’d rather not dwell on.
> 
> He pours himself a shot of something and shoots it without a chaser. The alcohol burns in the back of his throat and he coughs into the sink causing Georgi to jump and drop the glasses in his hands. 
> 
> “Fucking dramatic,” the insult doesn’t reach Georgi and Yuri pushes out of the way to grab a broom for the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank PJ Harvey, Hardwell, and Carly Rae Jepsen for this chapter. 
> 
> And of course all those who've left kudos and commented.
> 
> Y'all are great <3

“This one?”  
  
“No.”   
  
“This one then?”   
  
“It doesn’t match the theme,”   
  
“Then this one?”   
  
Viktor listens to the song like a master composer. His brows are creased in thought a hand on his chin.   
  
It’s taking too long.   
  
“JUST FUCKING PICK ONE ALREADY!!” Yuri roars slamming his hands on either side of his empty plate. Viktor opens one eye to glare at him. Then almost challenging.   
  
“Not this one either.”   
  
Yuri’s mangled cries are muffled by the way he pulls his hoodie over his head. Otabek, now very much used to Yuri’s outbursts, scratches at the pad of paper he’s working on nonplused. They’re over at Viktor and Yuuri’s figuring out the setlist for the wedding.   
  
After a week or two of these sessions, Otabek now understands that the brat that is Yuri Plisetsky was born of and taught from the just as bratty Viktor Nikiforov. Viktor who had to okay every song that was on Otabek’s set. Viktor who had an aesthetic to uphold.   
  
Not that Otabek minded; he had dealt with far worse clients in the past.   
  
“Beka,” Yuri is pleading gripping the other’s hoodie, “I swear, I will find another way for you to get paid. You really, really don’t have to subject yourself to this.” there’s a simple smile at Otabek’s lips.   
  
“Yuri it’s their first dance,” and Yuri sighs over dramatically; something, Otabek notices, he also picks up from Viktor. He can’t help but chuckle at the action.   
  
“Viktor is being a bit too much,” Yuuri offers coming back from the kitchen with tea and macarons. Viktor responds with a whine and Yuuri brushes it off, and leans to kiss his fiance’s cheek, “We have much more to think about than a first dance,”

* * *

 

  
They go through a few more songs, and after the eighth or ninth-hundred reject, Yuuri asks, “What would you suggest, Otabek?”   
  
Yuri watches Otabek from the couch where he’s scrolling through social media. The man is thoughtful for a moment opening different files and searching through his songs.   
  
“I’d go with something that’s familiar to both of you,” to prove a point Otabek plays something that is different from the prior selections. It’s steady, calming, and familiar to Yuri.   
  
“I know this band!” Yuuri exclaims standing to look over at Otabek’s screen, “I use to listen to them in high school! How do you know this song?”   
  
“Something that my friend introduced me to,” Otabek answers, “It’s also music that Yuri and I listened to the first time we hung out,”   
  
The answer is said so calmly without any hidden intention, but it has Yuri having to catch himself before falling off the couch. He’s able to put two and two together and realizes the song was one he fell asleep to when they were snowed in. No wonder it had been familiar, Yuuri was always playing this stuff around the house.   
  
“Aww, so cute,” Viktor croons looking at Yuri’s direction with a knowing smiles. Otabek hits pause on the song, and then goes back to the suggested songs that Viktor had given him. The other Russian stares at him intently that same awful smile Yuri has come to know means bad things for him.   
  
“Yurio,” he calls, “did you want to have Otabek come to the party?”   
  
Yuri’s voice catches in his throat “Don’t know,”   
  
“Well, do you? He is your friend after all,” Otabek has turned to him one eyebrow raised. If there was a way to throw himself out the window, Yuri would. Sadly, the balcony window has a screen over to protect Viktor’s dog from jumping over.   
  
Yes, Yuri had been getting around to inviting Otabek to the party that was planned for Viktor and Yuuri. He just hadn’t thought about it much.   
  
Or found the balls to do it.   
  
Yuri’s been towing the line with admitting he’s actually crushing hard on Otabek. Since the night that is now called the mixing incident in his head he’s had a few other incidents that involve him: dreams, fantasies, the frequent hand down his pants.   
  
So if Yuri does invite Otabek, it has to be with one intention of the other: friend or crush. Yuri hates not knowing what things mean he’d rather not do that to his friend.   
  
Later, when they’re being ushered out of the apartment because someone (Viktor) had forgotten a cake tasting appointment Yuuri  pulls him close.   
  
“Otabek is more than welcome to come to the party, but if you’re not comfortable with inviting him that’s okay too,”   
  
The feeling is a mix of wanting to smack Katsuki to the floor and to hug him at the same time. He’s always been fearful of the other Yuuri’s talent to see right through him, but now he’s just thankful. Yuri opts for a quick nod of gratitude. Yuuri leaves with a wink.   
  
Otabek waits for him at the stairs adjusting the straps of his backpack. They’re silent on the way down, and Otabek must notice Yuri is trying to say something so he takes the initiative.   
  
“So this party?” Yuri opens his mouth and closes it. His hands wander in his hoodie pocket looking for his keys buying his time.   
  
“Yea, it’s like a joint bachelor party because they’re dorks,” his voice is a bit shaky, but Otabek surely doesn’t see he’s nervous. “Come with me!” he pushes, “it’s at the club and Chris says I don’t have to work because I’m best person,”   
  
“Person?” Otabek asks amused.   
  
At the sarcasm Yuri allows himself to relax. “Yea person. Apparently, they both wanted me for ‘best man’. Instead Phichit and Chris got the roles and I’m stuck with ‘person'. It’s like best man except I do all the work but don’t stand during the ceremony.”   
  
Otabek’s smile is widening at the answer truly trying not to laugh. Yuri’s seeing more and more of that lately, and it twists his heart just a little.   
  
He’s leaning against the door shoulders barely grazing Otabek’s own. It’s with this that Yuri notices he’s only slightly taller than Otabek. At the club he clears a few inches because of his heels or he’s looking up from the stage.   
  
It’s perfect height to kiss.   
  
Otabek clears his throat pulling Yuri from yet another daydream. “Well, if the ‘best person’ is who is inviting me, I guess I should go.” The twist in Yuri’s heart gets a little tighter.   
  
“Really?! I mean great!” the blonde stutters, and Otabek is smiling again, “I’ll text you the details, and stuff,” An awkward moment passes between them, and Yuri realizes he still has to unlock the door.   
  
“You want to come inside?”   
  
“Nah,” Otabek readjusts his backpack, “I’ve got reading I haven’t done for tomorrow’s class. But I’ll see you on Thursday.” Yuri nods and he steps inside his apartment dragging his things with him.   
  
Otabek gives him one more smile and then leaves.   
  
Shit. Fuck. Damn. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Shit.   


* * *

  
It’s two days later that Yuri decides that he’s in too deep. And he’s too much of a fucking bitch to go and talk to Yuuri and Viktor about it. In lieu of this, he’s knocking on Mila’s door at ten in the morning. He knows her classes at the community college don’t start till noon today.   
  
When Mila answers he invites himself in not caring if she’s still got he pajamas on, not caring that Sara is drinking coffee at the table in just a tank and her underwear. He immediately goes into her room and collapses onto her bed and let’s the pillows muffle his screams.   
  
He hears Mila mention something about not being awake enough for this shit and he waits. Someone rubs soothing circles into his back; it’s probably Sara. He screams again.   
  
“What’s wrong Yorachka?” Mila calls from the doorway. Yuri looks up and sees her climbing onto the bed sitting cross legged in between him and Sara. He makes a show of rolling over onto his back and sighing loudly. Mila waits sipping her coffee.   
  
“It’s Beka,”   
  
Mila lets out a laugh that reminds Yuri of the villains in the 90’s anime the other Yuuri brought from Japan.   
  
“I knew it,” Mila gives him a shit eating grin, “Since the first night, I knew you’d fall for him!!”   
  
“Mila,” Sara pokes her girlfriend in the ribs getting an ‘Ope’ from her, “Yuri’s obviously having heartache. We must help him,” her tone is also teasing, and Yuri wonders why he thought the hugs were a better option than Katsudon and the idiot. Mila sets her coffee down and climbs over resting her head on Yuri’s chest gazing up at him.   
  
“Are you sure?” what a stupid question.   
  
“Of course,” he growls, “I really like him,”   
  
It’s the first time that Yuri’s said it out loud. He’s probably wanted to say this since he spent the night at Otabek’s apartment. Probably at the exact moment he made pelmeni and learned about Sofia. Mila chuckles and reaches out to caress Yuri’s face.   
  
“Poor Yura, in love,”   
  
“Not in love,” Yuri interrupts, “in like.” this gets a laugh from Sara and he gives the woman a nasty glare, “You two are no help. Tell me what to do,”   
  
“Just tell him,” Mila is quick to respond and Sara ‘hmms’ in agreement, “You’re not in high school, Yura. You can ask him out on a date,” Yuri blushes again and grabs a pillow to hide his face.   
  
“You can’t ask anyone out if your dead,” Sara teases. Maybe it’d be better if that’s what ends up happening. Mila let’s out a sigh and grabs at the pillow lifting it gently.   
  
“C’mon Yuri. We can practice. It’ll be fine,”   


* * *

  
The practice is running through his head as he’s wiping down the bar before work the next night. Otabek will be in the club in approximately an hour, and Yuri hates that he knows that because he feels like a stalker.   
  
He’s decided he’s going to talk to Otabek at Viktor and Yuuri’s bachelor party on Saturday. Neither of them will be working, and if shit hits the fan he can get drunk on as much alcohol as he can consume before Chris hauls him off.     
  
The nights pass smoothly. JJ is back and he’s as annoying as he ever is. Isabella gives Yuri a generous tip as always. Things are normal.   
  
He hardly sees Otabek save for the glances down to the stage below. It’s a blessing that he’s on bottle duty for the weekend. He even takes Seung-gil’s shift as well and stays there till closing.   
  
He makes the excuse of getting rides with Chris to do ‘best person’ stuff. Chris can see right through that lie, but there’s a silent agreement between him and his boss.   
  
Otabek, generally unfazed by anything, accepts it and continues to act normal.   
  
On Saturday, Yuri comes into the club early to assist Chris with putting up any decorations. How can two people accumulate so many photos in two years time? He wonders this, but also secretly thinks it would be cool to have a photo or two of him and Otabek.   
  
He slaps the remaining picture of the offending couple onto the wall and runs to the dressing room to get ready.   
  
Someone in the wedding party was able to make t-shirts for the rest of them because of course they were. Yuri makes a disgusted face looking at the soft blue shirt that sported _#viktuuri_ on the front and _best person_ on the back.   
  
He’s taken creative license of the shirt. By that, he’s cut the sleeves off and tied it so it’s a tight and cropped.   
  
He’s layering a few black necklaces when Otabek walks in. He’s also in his #viktuuri shirt and for some reason it’s the best shirt he’s ever seen on Otabek.   
  
“Hey,” he says breaking Yuri’s ogling.   
  
“Hi, Beka,” Attempting to play it cool, Yuri turns back to the mirror messing with his hair and double checking the evenness of his eyeliner. He feels Otabek’s eyes on him.   
  
“Everything alright with us?” The directness of the question startles Yuri and his head whips to stare at Otabek.

Of course Yuri had to fall for the most unemotional people on this planet.

  
Yuri can’t find his voice so Otabek continues, “I just feel you’ve been avoiding me.  I don’t see you very much, but when I don’t see you at work, it’s a little weird.”   
  
“Weird?” Yuri repeats.   
  
Otabek shakes his head, “Yea, I’ve gotten used to seeing your head bobbing on the floor.” he smirks and Yuri’s stomach flutters, “plus it means free drinks,”   
  
Yuri chuckles and fiddles with the necklaces wrapping them around his fingers. “Sorry, I’ve just been busy. I’m trying to make sure I have enough money for the dorks’ wedding gift,”   
  
It’s an absolute lie and Yuri can feel someone ready to strike him down, but Otabek buys it and the tension eases between them.   
  
“Understandable.”   
  
And just like that the exchange is over. They talk about the set and how Otabek, unfortunately, had to play tonight. At least he was getting paid.   
  
“And maybe I can score a free drink?” he winks and Yuri might as well just throw off his clothes right there because, Lord…   


* * *

  
It’s the middle of the party and Yuri’s helping Georgi organize the bar after Viktor had gotten access to it. Something about getting Yuuri drunk enough to see him strip, and how the last time he’d seen it was Chris’ birthday party.   
  
He’s working because it allows him to push any annoyances from his brain. Annoyances meaning the fact that he was crushing on Otabek. Crushing may have not even been the right word: completely enamored? Enjoying the rapture of ‘like’.   
  
Either way, he’d rather not dwell on.   
  
He pours himself a shot of something and shoots it without a chaser. The alcohol burns in the back of his throat and he coughs into the sink causing Georgi to jump and drop the glasses in his hands.   
  
“Fucking dramatic,” the insult doesn’t reach Georgi and Yuri pushes out of the way to grab a broom for the glass.   
  
The club looks strange with so few people on the dance floor, but there are big enough personalities to make it seem full. Yuuri and Viktor are pressed together in the middle because of course they are. Mila is with her new friend, girl, person. Even fucking Chris and a man Yuri guesses is his partner are cozied up and laughing while they dance. He’s like twelfth fucking wheel.   
  
It’s like some higher power wants him to be pissed off.   
  
“Yurio! Why aren’t you dancing?!” Phichit greets him by the door camera in hand. As best man/ expert instagramer he was in charge of creating the wedding slide show. Yuri doesn’t acknowledge Phichit and continues to rummage for the broom, “Is it because Otabek is DJing?”   
  
“What the hell, Phichit!”   
  
“You should ask him,” the Thai man offers untroubled by Yuri’s fuze. He quickly holds up his camera and snaps a picture using the flash to magically disappear.   
  
Yuri slams the door to the closet and looks around for the offending man. Instead, he catches Otabek watching the crowd.   
  
There must have been some liquid courage in the shot he took because electricity is charging through his veins motivating him to the stage. Otabek catches sight and nods at him probably expecting that drink.   
  
Nope.   
  
“Dance with me,” Yuri demands. Otabek’s hands pause against the keys. He’s staring at the blonde like he’s computing the request. Yuri begins to doubt his boldness, but Otabek is removing his headphones and then clicking a few keys.   
  
“Sure,”   
  
Honestly, when Yuri does things, he doesn’t expect to get away with it or even get too far with it. It comes from living with a grandfather who has eyes in the back of his fucking head. It’s why he becomes a stuttering mess at Otabek’s willingness to be lead onto the dance floor.   
  
His body is awkward at first adjusting to his new partner; really, he’d only ever really danced with Mila and maybe Viktor when he was feeling it.   
  
But nine years of ballet lets him get away with that. He’s able to move his body to the beat, and he doesn’t even have to try to be sensual.   
  
He can feel Otabek’s gaze on him and with the confidence from before he reaches out to grab Otabek’s hand and pressing it to his waist.   
  
The move seems to make Otabek relax and he melts to the music as well joining in the sway of Yuri’s hips.   
  
Yuri closes his eyes enjoying the feel of the other man next to him. The delicious feeling of his hand on his hip was really enough to send Yuri off to heaven, or hell, or wherever little Russian, gay boys went.   
  
He sighs contentedly leaning closer as they dance.   
  
Otabek grips a little tighter to his waist.   
  
Yuri manages to angle his legs so they’re slightly spread around Otabek’s.   
  
They flirt silently like this for a while. Fingers trail lightly scratching down his bare arm and a shiver runs through him. Otabek grabs his wrist gingerly pulling it to his lips where he presses a kiss a top Yuri’s knuckles. The act stuns Yuri for a millisecond, but he recovers and reaches farther back till his fingers are threading through Otabek’s undercut.   
  
It was like playing chicken: who could tread that thin line the two were now on the longest. Any closer and Yuri would be grinding on Otabek pants. Something he had considered, but where did the playful touching cross into dangerous territory?   
  
Could it be taken back?   
  
The moves are like a contest each pushing farther than the rest. Otabek’s hands return to Yuri’s hips. He can feel the hot touch on bare skin that peaks above his low rise jeans. Their bodies connect with the rhythm moving in time.   
  
The fingers that are tangled in Otabek’s hair pull up till their eyes meets. Yuri’s washed over by the warmth of too dark eyes that are staring at him so intensely that Yuri feels completely bare. His heart beats frantically against his chest and he wants to push himself closer. No, not closer, but into Otabek. Into his gaze and mold into him.   
  
Attraction is one thing. Lust is another thing. What was emanating from Yuri was want.   
  
He wanted Otabek in all the ways that someone could have another: figuratively and very literally. Calculated, he bites his lip and stares into Otabek’s eyes vulnerable. His heart continues to pound against his chest, and he wonders if maybe it’s the same for Otabek too.   
  
“Smile!” the white flash blinds Yuri, but he can still hear Phichit’s laughs as he runs to take the next picture. His sight readjusts and he hopes maybe the moment is not ruined.   
  
It is.   
  
The opposite of Yuri’s fantasies happens and Otabek drops his hands from Yuri’s waist and pulls back. His gaze returns to normal almost apologetic, and he reaches to remove Yuri’s hand that’s still holding his neck.   
  
“I’ve got to get back to finish the set. Can’t sound to predictable,” Yuri must look upset because Otabek reaches out and lightly taps Yuri on his nose, “Stop looking like I’m abandoning you.” He smirks at the pout he gets in response. He reaches out and one digit pulls at Yuri’s cheek creating a half smile.   
  
“Come on, Yurochka,”   
  
Two people in the world use that nickname unironically: his grandfather and Mila. Otabek says it as if he’s used the name all his life. The familiarity of which he says it sets Yuri’s stomach into knots, so all he can do is nod at Otabek’s request.   
  
When he leaves another pair of arms wrap around his neck and pull him close. Yuri rests against Mila’s shoulder with a frustrated, strangled type of noise.   
  
“Fuuuuucckkkk!”     
  
Mila chuckles sympathetically pressing her cheek against his. The tumultuous storm raging through him refuses to quit and he stomps a few times trying to release it.   
  
“Poor Yura,” Mila coos brushing bangs from his face, “You’ve got it bad,” Yuri can do nothing but whine.   
  
“Come on, let me get you a drink.”   
  
Then Yuri remembers.   
  
Shit. Georgi.   


* * *

  
Chris deems the party over when Yuuri and Viktor are caught doing unspeakable things up in bottle service. Yuri thinks about quitting his job right then and there.   
  
The only keeping him from doing so is the concentrated glances he received from Otabek whenever he was out on the dance floor.   
  
One in particular sticks in his brain while he was dancing against Yuuri’s friend, Minami.   
  
It makes Yuri hopeful.   
  
Phichit let’s Yuri off the hook by stating he’d take the betrothed home and get them into bed. He mouths ‘get it, boy’, and Yuri can’t say anything because Otabek is next to him talking to Chris.   
  
He accepts Otabek’s offer for a ride home much later after the club staff has cleaned everything up. It’s 4:00 in the morning, and Yuri can’t help but think about how cyclical it all is.   
  
His heart is racing and he hopes Otabek can’t feel it as he settles against his chest. Yuri wraps his arms lightly around. He’s gotten used to Otabek where he doesn’t have to cling against him.   
  
However, Otabek thinks differently and grasps at Yuri and pulls his arms around till he is flush against his back. The DJ keeps his hands on Yuri’s for a minute. When he starts the bike Yuri doesn’t move.   
  
The ride is the shortest of his life. Probably, because he spent it half daydreaming of running his hands over Otabek’s six pack. The other half being completely terrified and excited and ready to explode.   
  
When Otabek stops at Yuri’s apartment neither move. Yuri keeps his arms over Otabek and he thinks he can hear the other’s heart beating fast. It may just be his own.   
  
“Yura,” another nickname and Yuri’s stomach is doing a quad flip.   
  
“Come inside,” like before it’s not a question. The statement is barely a whisper but Yuri’s voice is hoarse. He peels himself from around Otabek and slides off the back with as much grace as a giraffe.   
  
He’s so goddamned nervous.   
  
Otabek pulls off his helmet and looks directly at Yuri and he swallows.   
  
He steps off his bike and Yuri’s once again reminded of their perfect, kissable, height. Otabek’s hair is mussed and his cheeks are flushed from the wind. His face is expressionless searching for the motivation of Yuri’s boldness.   
  
Otabek’s a silent person. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like literally everyone Yuri knows. There’s a slight widening of his eyes like something clicks. Yuri would have missed it, if he hadn’t spent so much time with the man. Otabek steps closer now only an arms length away. Yuri wants to make up the space, but his feet are stuck to the ground.   
  
He’s going to say something he can see him biting the inside of his cheek.  The action sends a sudden wave of dread because wouldn’t an invite like this get an enthusiastic response? Even from Otabek?   
  
“Yura,”   
  
There it is.   
  
“I can’t,”   
  
The constricting feeling in Yuri’s chest is no longer welcomed. In fact, it’s making it hard for Yuri to breathe. Otabek stands still. He looks sincere.   
  
He looks apologetic.   
  
He looks like he’s been leading Yuri on.   
  
Before Otabek can continue Yuri takes a large step back. “It’s fine,” he quips, “You must be tired from working, right?”   
  
He keeps his voice as normal as possible, but Yuri wants to scream. He wants to throw a tantrum he is so angry.   
  
Otabek looks like he wants to say something more. His expression is pained, and Yuri almost wants to hear what he has to say.   
  
“Goodnight, Otabek.”   
  
Otabek gives him a, “Yea…” and his voice trails off as he slips on his helmet and starts his bike. He raises a hand goodbye and then he’s off.   
  
Yuri watches the red lights flash till they’re out of sight, and then he turns and goes into his apartment alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think this would get angsty? I sure as hell didn't.
> 
> There are interviews and conferences in the next two weeks, so I don't know when this next chapter will be uploaded (and by uploaded I mean written). 
> 
> Come be my friend livelaughsleepeat.tumblr.com and motivate my ass to write and graduate in May!
> 
> Kudos, comments, and concerns are always welcome <3


	6. But It's Hard When You're Young *EDITED*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****EDITED*****
> 
> He must end up falling asleep because he wakes up and it’s pitch black. His phone is charging on Mila’s nightstand. His eyes might as well roll out of his head when he sees the lock screen is now Mila and Sara flipping him off. They’ve also left him a note:
> 
> Dear, sad, little golubsti, 
> 
> Sara and I went off to our Valentine’s Day reservations. If you’re staying please be prepared for loud love making. If you are leaving please lock the door and take out the trash. Also, stop feeling bad about this Otabek situation. 
> 
> Peace and Blessings, 
> 
> Mila and Sara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm back - AGAIN. This chapter didn't sit well with me the first time so I cut and pasted and blew some glitter on it and here we are. I hope that you all enjoy the edits. 
> 
> Golubsti is cabbage rolls 
> 
> Feedback, comments, and concerns are welcomed <3

Mila finds him in her bed with the comforter and sheets pulled and bundled around.  
  
“I don’t just make my bed so you can ruin it, you know?” She sighs when Yuri says nothing and instead turns up the volume of the bluetooth speaker that blasts an old Pink song. It’s a song off The Best Breakup Playlist…Ever something they’d made together millions of years ago when Mila had been dumped by her high school, douchebag of a boyfriend.  
  
Wordlessly, she slips out of her work clothes and throws on sweats and one of Sara’s old shirts. Yuri’s already scooted over so she can sit and wrap herself in the remains of the comforter. If Yuri had to rank, he’d say Mila knew him the absolute best. Well, not better than his grandfather, but better than anyone after that.

He knew that Mila was assessing how upset he was, and would take action from there. She would sometimes brush his hair with her mother’s antique paddle brush. Other times, she would bring out a large take out menu and order one of everything.  
  
Yuri turns to stare into Mila’s eyes which go from sympathetic to irked instantaneously, and he yelps at the quick but painful flick she gives his nose.  
  
“What the hell, hag?!” he growls nasally while he pinches the bridge of his nose.  
  
“Yura, it’s literally been a week,” the redhead huffs quickly grabbing the remote and turning off the speakers, “Stop being a fucking drama queen.” Yuri kicks at her as she tries to untangle them from the comforter, but she’s always been terrifyingly strong. To fight back, she burritos him with the blankets till he can’t move and it’s too hot.  
  
“Damnit, Mila! Can’t I be upset about this for like a moment!” He gurgles dramatically as Mila replies by sitting on top of him exclaiming he can’t breathe.  
  
“Yura, there’s nothing to be upset over, we don’t even know what really happened,” Yuri’s pouting from his forced cocoon and sighs.  
  
“Yea, we do. I got rejected.” The words still sting even if he’s being dramatic about it.  
  
“If you got rejected, then how come you’re the one not answering phone calls?”  
  
If Otabek thought that Yuri was ignoring him before, he better as hell not question it now.  
  
He must have called once a day for the last week, but Yuri clicked ignore on every single one. Any voicemails were left unheard, any texts were deleted.  
  
So he was being a bit petty, sue him.  
  
Instead of working the next weekend, he took the bus down to spend it at the small community his grandfather lived in. And that’s where he was until Tuesday: curled up in an old knit blanket playing eighty rounds of checkers.  
  
Because Wednesday is Valentine’s Day, Nikolai all but kicked Yuri out suggesting that he would have company over, and unless he wanted to play backgammon with an older couple he best be leaving. Yuri would have rather be run over than watch his grandpa try to flirt with someone, so he hopped on the next bus and barged into Mila and Sara’s apartment soon after.  
  
“Who cares. It doesn’t matter,”  
  
“Oh, but it does Yurochka,” Mila rolls off of him and onto the floor where her makeup is scattered around an unhung full length mirror. She slips a bright purple headband over her head to keep her bangs out of her face. “If you’d talk to him maybe you’d find out what is going on behind that very stoic, handsome gaze.” Yuri rolls his eyes, “Maybe you’ll get an explanation.”  
  
“I told you, there’s nothing to explain -”  
  
“Yura, grows some balls and grow up,” Yuri looks up to see Mila swirling eyeshadows onto her eyes with a transfixed gaze. She continues, “If you like the guy, go and see if he likes you back. Don’t just vaguely invite him inside your apartment,” This shuts Yuri up, and he buries himself into the blankets farther to escape the fact that Mila was very much right.  
  
There conversation ends, and all Yuri can hear is the beginnings of a song and Mila’s humming.

* * *

He must end up falling asleep because he wakes up and it’s pitch black. His phone is charging on Mila’s nightstand. His eyes might as well roll out of his head when he sees the lock screen is now Mila and Sara flipping him off. They’ve also left him a note:

  
_Dear, sad, little golubsti,_  
  
_Sara and I went off to our Valentine’s Day reservations. If you’re staying please be prepared for loud love making. If you are leaving please lock the door and take out the trash. Also, stop feeling bad about this Otabek situation._  
  
_Peace and Blessings,_  
  
_Mila and Sara_  
  
When he leaves he makes sure not to replace the liner on the trash can. It’s the least he can do to them for not waking his ass up.  
  
It’s 7:30 now and Yuri’s not sure what happens next. Normally, it would be to go to Viktor’s, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to be there with them tonight of all nights.  
  
He could go into work, put it an extra shift.  
  
Lilia’s studio is closed.  
  
Yakov would force him into applying for schools.  
  
Otabek -  
  
Yuri’s mind draws a blank and he swallows hard. Otabek would be the perfect person to hang out with tonight. But Otabek hasn’t heard from Yuri in a week.  
  
And Yuri never apologizes first.  
  
Instead he slips on his headphones and heads towards the bus stop attempting to be content with the idea he’d be alone. Since Mila and Sara lived above a shopping plaza, Yuri weaved in and out of the boutiques grabbing heavily discounted items. Whoever said money couldn’t buy happiness obviously did not have as good of taste as Yuri.  
  
The bus is empty and Yuri didn’t care that he got a nasty look from the bus drive as he slides into the back propping his boots on the seat in front of him. Two more people step on, and the lights dim. Yuri presses his face against the cold window and breathes. The glass fogs, and he runs his fingers down swirling. Unconscious to it, he writes his name in cyrillic and below it Otabek’s. He stops himself and quickly erases it furiously.  
  
He doesn’t want to think at all, so he goes to snapchat and hits ‘play all’ on his recent updates even the stupid high school people he was too lazy to delete. He mindlessly continues to swipe past stupid couples and ads.  
  
“Otabek!!” his fingers freeze as Otabek comes onto the screen, “You have to say it!!!!!” Otabek rolls his eyes good naturedly and pushes the camera away.  
  
The next snap is Otabek drinking a beer with the caption _hero of Kazakhstan right here_  
  
There are several snaps without a caption: Otabek trying to grab the phone from the recorder, two other boys laughing together, drinks.  
  
The final snap Otabek has a girl on his lap and their both posing for the camera. Beka’s face is mock serious his fingers pressed against his chin. The girl is draped over him.  
  
_It’s too bad he’s taken DX_  
  
Yuri immediately swipes away and blindly goes through the rest of his feed. His heart drops into his stomach and he screws his eyes tight.

* * *

  
That evening he stays behind the bar and helps Georgi mix drinks. Yuri is dressed in ratty leggings and a knockoff, Russian, olympic team jacket; not work appropriate, but he definitely does not feel like dressing in glitter and leather. It was Chris’ birthday, so he could have given two fucks about what Yuri was wearing, so at least there was something to be thankful for.  
  
He must be completely out of it because he doesn’t realize he’s almost knocking over a drink before Georgi yelps and settles it.  
  
“Yura,” Georgi admonishes, “are you high?” Yuri snorts at the question, but he can tell Georgi is serious. It makes him laugh harder than he has all day.  
  
“You fucking serious, Popovich?! No I’m not high!”  
  
“Your mind has been somewhere else all evening.”  
  
Despite what Yuri says, he knows he’s got eighty million people vying to be his parent. Georgi especially so. The look he is getting almost makes him want to apologize. Instead, like any teen/young adult would, he gives Georgi the finger.  
  
“Yea, so what? I’m fucking tired. It’s late,” Georgi doesn’t look like he believes a word he says but nods and turns to take orders. If it wasn’t Georgi, he would actually feel okay spilling his guts, but if there was one person he never wanted to get romantic advice from, this was the guy.

* * *

Yuri skips on cleaning that night and calls for an uber instead. The DJ during the week, Leo something or other, ends right at two as the club is closing.  
  
People are hanging over each other and making out and it makes Yuri feel like vomiting. He’s glad he’s spent the eight dollars to get away from the bullshit.  
  
He looks back through social media.  
  
Otabek’s story never updated.  
  
Yuri wished he didn’t care.

But instead he’s playing the story over again. He wants to break his phone in half, he wants to scream into the uber driver’s ear. He feels so fucking stupid being this whipped for a guy who could give two shits about him.

The phone calls have stopped, Yuri knows it might be permanent. Yet something in him goes to Otabek’s contact information. He stares at it thinking of the first night they’d hung out. How a stupid fucking stalker suddenly became this important person who was now a part of his life. It had been only been a little more than a month.

He taps ‘call’ anyway.  
  
He lets the phone ring once. Yuri instantly taps the red ‘end call’ his motions like a hummingbird. Does the call show up as missed if it’s only half a second? Anxiety settles like a pit in his chest, and he gnaws on his lip till he gets inside his apartment.

It’s only then that the phone is hidden in the depths of his couch that Yuri can collapse on his bed and sleep.

* * *

“If you’re looking for Otabek, he’s not coming in tonight,” Chris singsongs Thursday evening. Yuri flinches accused, but instead of aggressively going off on his boss, he ignores the comment and saunters to the dressing room.  
  
Otabek, apparently, has an exam to study for, and he needed to take that weekend of to ‘prepare’. Yuri thinks that’s bullshit because he definitely wasn’t studying the night before. He’s probably too hungover to function.  
  
It’s fine that he’s not here because Yuri doesn’t need distractions. Otabek isn’t the only one coming in; Seung-Gil is out of town too. And Yuri, with the luck he had, draws the short straw indicating he is in charge of Seung-Gil’s shift.  
  
All this pent up aggression and angst is good, however, because he’s cleaning tables off in record time; they’re cleaned correctly at that. He’s balancing the bus tub on his hip when Chris calls to take a break.  
  
“You’re going to throw out your arm working like that,” Chris jokes taking the tub from Yuri. The blonde shoots him an exasperated look throwing the towel and cleaner with the dishes.  
  
“Whatever, you’d overwork me if you could, ya ass,” Chris’ eyes are incredibly off-putting. He almost looks concerned. Yuri goes to head back to the dressing room before Chris goes after him.  
  
“Take a while, you’re young, people are concerned,” Yuri turns back and there’s no joke left in his boss’ eyes. Yuri wants to roll his eyes, knowing Georgi must have said something. Again, he was reminded of the thirty million parents he had.  
  
“Will do, Boss,” Yuri responds, “Thanks,”  
  
Chris leaves to the bar, and Yuri goes to find the nearest empty bar stool. All of a sudden he feels the heat from moving around for the last few hours. He grabs his hair tie in between his teeth before putting his hair up in a top knot.  
  
Yuri people watches. It’s not as gross and couple-y as it had been Wednesday. It’s the Thursday crowd, and they’re always a bit wild. The image of JJ comes to mind and he laughs.  
  
That’s when he sees dirty blonde hair just a head above most people.  
  
It’s Alexi.  
  
He gets caught staring and Alexi smiles a lazy smile that makes Yuri flush just slightly. The taller man motions Yuri to come out to the dance floor, and so he goes. Alexi’s smile grows and Yuri finds himself smiling as well.  
  
“Hey! You’re DJ friend not here tonight?”  
  
Yuri shrugs attempting to act nonchalant, “I guess,” Alexi takes that as a I also don’t care because he grabs Yuri’s hands and leads him to the middle of the floor.  
  
They’re dancing minutes later. Leo is definitely not Otabek, but he’s providing enough for Yuri to get into. Alexi is respectful of the distance until Yuri brings his hands to the man’s hips and pulls him forward. Alexi leans down and presses his forehead against Yuri’s. His bangs hang in his eyes and brush Yuri’s face, and for some reason he’s into it.  
  
And, really? His heart is ticking just a bit faster. The song gets slower and he’s moved closer.  
  
“Still think I’m cute?” Yuri suggests. Alexi laughs a breathless laugh.  
  
“Still think you’re cute,” and he leans down to press his lips to Yuri’s.  
  
Alexi’s lips are soft and tacky. Like he’s just put on mint lip balm. It’s comforting.  
  
Yuri like’s it.  
  
That first kiss turns into a set of opened mouth ones. They aren’t wet or too long, there’s not too much tongue involved. Alexi’s hands rest firm on Yuri’s hips. Kissing the guy is actually pretty great.  
  
But then he’s thinking of dark eyes and the feel of an undercut under his fingers.  
  
Suddenly pretty great can’t cut it.  
  
Alexi’s eyes flutter open slowly and a small smile spreads.  
  
“Not doing it for you, huh?”  
  
The comment takes Yuri a moment to process, but Alexi just has to read his expression to get the answer.  
  
“Me too,” he continues, and he reaches out to raises Yuri’s jaw till his mouth is closed, “Sometimes, two people don’t fit.” Yuri feels like his mind has been read. He’s suddenly feeling terribly guilty.  
  
“You’re a good kisser,” he blurts out and he might just punch himself out if he wasn’t in public.  
  
Alexi chuckles, “Thanks. You are too,” he leans down and places a kiss on Yuri’s cheek. “Have a good rest of your night,”  
  
Yuri watches as Alexi disappears into the crowd, and now he’s angry.

Fuck Otabek and his fucking name that runs through his head fucking 24/7.

Fuck him and his music choices, and his eyes, and his fucking awful rosemary.

Yuri stomps through the crowd and up into the dressing room where he grabs the first non-breakable item he sees and hurls it into the wall. The poor plush toy sinks to the ground dejected. When that’s not enough, Yuri locks the door and gives himself time to scream out all of his frustrations.

* * *

 

When Yuri Plisetsky was twelve years old he had his first proper crush on a man named Yuuri Katsuki.

Yuuri Katsuki was his sixth grade teacher’s assistant. He was quiet, but had the friendliest demeanor Yuri had ever experienced.

He fell hard fast.

When Yuuri would teach lessons, Yuri would get lost in that comforting voice; when he would get called on he could barely stutter out the answers. He constantly asked for help on his homework, and it’s probably why he got so into math. It was Yuuri’s favorite subject.

Needless to say, the small child was more than excited to introduce Mr. Yuuri Katsuki to all of his family, friends, and relatives.

But what a mistake that was.

Viktor came to pick Yuri up one day when his grandfather was working an investigation. Yuri knew that Viktor was a fifth grade teacher at another elementary school, so he was beyond enthusiastic to introduce Viktor to his cool, teacher’s aide.

Yuri found out they were dating months later. He did not take it well.

In fact, he became a real asshole. Going to middle school provided all the middle school anger he needed to absolutely _hate_ Yuuri Katsuki because he already hated Viktor. He’d throw insults whenever he got the chance. Vicious names, that even for a twelve to thirteen year old were cruel.

Yuri remembers this as he’s getting ready for the night. The week passes fast, and it’s Thursday again.

He’s going to fucking stun.

He’s pulled on the shimmering aqua leggings he’d gotten one year on super clearance at American Apparel and adorns it with black lace ups and crop top. He smooths a similar colored, kohl eyeliner around his eyes and smudges it with a brush. _Subtle_ he thinks. He adds black for good measure and grins confidently at his reflection.

He teases his hair till it looks like he’s been in a tantric sex session and layers necklaces for a final touch.

He wasn’t fucking playing around.

* * *

He’s filling buckets with ice when the music begins to pound. It’s fast paced and loud almost angry. Yuri doesn’t let himself turn to face the dance floor choosing to busy himself with grabbing red bulls.

It’s Isabella’s birthday party, and she exclusively wants Yuri to work their table. JJ of course obliges, and that is how Yuri ends up shooting down two kamikazes while he should be refilling ice. Isabella encourages Yuri to have the drinks because he is always working so hard. Yuri does not feel guilty about never mentioning his real age to the Canadians.

He still does his job just takes longer breaks. Example, when Isabella demands they all dance, Yuri follows their party down to dance. He works enough with JJ to know his Thursday group, so it’s easy to acquaint himself further. With a little vodka involved, he was dancing with both girls and guys running his hands over his chest and neck.

He keeps his eyes away from the stage and continues dance. Isabella gets behind him and sways against him. He can hear JJ shout all sorts of encouragement and he has to laugh because Isabella is never the one to let loose.

Feeling the buzz himself, he reaches out to grab JJ and pull him in front. Isabella hollers in amusement and JJ slaps his leg.

“Fucking finally!” he jokes. He reaches for his phone and flicks open the camera. Yuri remembers the obscene gesture Mila uses on him and he sticks his tongue out in between his fingers. The camera flashes and he grabs Isabella and wraps her arms around him. He then winds his arms over JJ’s shoulders and presses a kiss to his cheek. The flash goes off again and Isabella’s friends run to get into the next picture.

The grip isn’t tight, but Yuri yelps as he’s dragged away. Without looking up, he knows exactly who it is, and follows Otabek out of the crowd.

Yuri’s expecting to be dragged out into the alleyway and cussed out profusely. He expects Otabek to expell his undying love for Yuri, and that he was making a huge mistake.

Instead, he’s dragged back to the dressing room. When the door shuts behind him, Otabek utters cooly, “You’re being a prick.”

Yuri’s eyes widen in disbelief. He feels hot and cold all out once, and all of this idiocy comes out in a loud, choking chortle. Otabek almost looks bewildered, and it makes him laugh till tears prick his eyes. Laughter turns to anger which turns to rage.

He grabs at his hairbrush and heaves it close enough to Otabek that he flinches.

“You!” he cries his hand searching for another object to project at the man, “ _You_ are being the prick! You! Fuck!” he grabs a charger block and chucks it. Otabek is ready this time and shields his face the charger hitting his arm.

“Stop throwing shit at me!” It’s the first time Otabek raises his voice, but Yuri’s too angry. He’s still searching for objects when Otabek steps forward and grabs his hands again rougher this time, “Stop!” He shakes Yuri a little and _that_ grabs his attention.

He hasn’t spoken with Otabek in two weeks.

Now, he suddenly just shows up tonight like he owns the damn place.

Now, he distracts Yuri _while_ he’s working

And _now_ some stupid song by Avicii is playing. Yuri _hates_ Avicii, and the rage continues to engulf him.

“I just want to talk,” Otabek says softly.

Yuri’s fists clench and unclench in Otabek’s grasp. There’s no composure left to keep, but he’s trying anyway.

“Why didn’t you come into the apartment,” he presses. Otabek’s expression doesn’t budge, but Yuri notices his eyes shift away for a second. Suddenly, it’s clear that the man is having a tough time. Yuri would feel bad, if wasn’t ready to gouge the guy’s eyes out.

“Look,” the DJ starts, “I start applying to graduate schools this fall.  I’m studying to take a lot of exams because for some reason most programs I’m looking into require it.”

“This is something I’ve been wanting since I was fourteen,” Otabek continues slowly, “and maybe it’s taken up a lot of my time, I don’t know… I was studying for a midterm…” his low voice drops away and Yuri is left disoriented. In all of the situations he saw himself in with Otabek, this would have never made the list. He chews on his lip trying to catch up. He can't.

“What in the fuck, Altin?” he realizes Otabek has been holding his breath because his laughs are light and airy.

“It’s just really hard to say no to you.” There are some things Yuri grasps easily. Math is one of those things. Russian is one of those things. This conversation can go fuck itself; it’s too confusing.

Otabek must catch on because he leans closer and murmurs, “You’re cute. I like spending time with you. I want to do more of that.”

_Oh._

_“_ I was going to ask you out at the coffee shop,”

_Fuck._

“I’m not looking for this,” he motions between the two of them, “to be some three week fling. I like you. I’m in,” Now it’s Yuri who doesn’t answer. He’s looking at Otabek, at their hands clasped together, and at the skid mark the brush had made when hitting the wall.

“That’s the sapiest shit I’ve heard.” he breathes.

To prove his point, Yuri shuts his eyes and pulls forward.

He’s right to think they’re the perfect height. The kiss is quick and hard and Yuri fills himself on Otabek’s cologne and the scent of leather and cold air. His fingers hurt because they grasp on to the jacket so tightly they cramp, but Yuri doesn’t let go.

Yuri doesn’t feel when Otabek’s arms wrap around him. He does, however, feel the scratch of the wall on his bare arms as the DJ turns them around and pushes him against it. The rough drag of it on his skin makes him gasp and the other takes Yuri’s bottom lip with his teeth.

Yuri’s into this. He’s into these chapped lips and how they mesh so well with his own. He’s into the pressure of tongue and teeth that search his mouth without hesitation. The kiss contains a promise of something deeper and something more fulfilling that Yuri needs to chase.

Otabek leaves his lips with a smack and continues running his hot mouth down Yuri’s chin and neck. He stops to press hard kisses against Yuri’s pressure point and sinks his teeth in. The bite sends a jolt through Yuri in the best way and elicits a small, sharp whine.

The work on his neck continue. The air is colder in the dressing room than it is out on the main floor that when Yuri gasps in it makes his chest burn, but Otabek is doing all the right things to him that he couldn’t give two fucks. His hands are raking the other’s undercut and his nails drag down his neck. Yuri learns very quickly that this only encourages Otabek more, and he pulls harder. His breath hitches as a growl comes from the man and he kisses up to capture Yuri’s lips once more.

“Um…excuse me, hi?”

Yuri’s hands stop pulling; Otabek stops kissing. Together, they turn to see Chris standing at the door trying to look serious, but not able to contain his shit eating grin.

“Sorry to interrupt, but my clubs in a bit of a pickle. See, our DJ has disappeared. And now the club is filled with Vivaldi’s four seasons. Not that I mind, but if you see him, tell him he’s got an hour left on the job, and then he can make out with whomever he wants.”

There’s a lack of apology as Beka detaches from Yuri. The two share a quick glance, and Otabek gives him a smirk that makes him go bright red with the realization of what just happened. The DJ turns to follow behind Chris, and Yuri’s left there to process before pulling himself back inside.

“I thought you weren’t speaking!” Mila cries incredulously when they're cleaning up later, “How the hell did you go from that to this!” The _this_ she is referring to are the marks on his neck that are angry red-purple that still show up in the strobe of club lights. She gestures up and down taking note of the entire state he’s in and Yuri shrugs.

“We made up…”

Mila scoffs and runs a hand through her short hair. “Shit, I wish Sara and I could make up like that,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you or someone you've loved has experienced heartbreak, break up playlist is here. https://open.spotify.com/user/1224468846/playlist/44M5zslZMZAn083gG7hdMh
> 
> Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to get this next chapter out and we'll get to the real fun ;) 
> 
> You can harass me here, or at livelaughsleepeat.tumblr.com.


	7. Make Wish, Use Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the few weeks they’ve been dating Yuri’s practically lived inside the various libraries on campus. He doesn’t even go to school and watching Otabek makes him glad for that. The man has had test after test, and when Yuri isn’t working, he finds himself cramped in a chair doodling on extra scrap paper or testing the other on materials Yuri couldn’t try to understand.
> 
> You’d think when you start dating someone, Vance Joy would appear and start soundtracking your life with indie pop music and angels would drop down a flower crown around his head.
> 
> That’s how it was for Katsudon and Viktor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Hello Hello!!! You all are so amazing leaving me the most wonderful comments. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. April is over, and that means 12 more days till I am officially a grown up. I'm really working to outline the future of this story. I'm thankful that it hasn't gotten too out of hand.
> 
> The rating for this story has now changed *cue dramatic music*
> 
> You come for the Otayuri and stay for the smut. 
> 
> ALSO - Chapter 6 was heavily edited. If you didn't read that version, you gonna be hella confused with this chapter!!!
> 
> comments, questions, feedback are all greatly appreciated.

There is a month plus of making out to make up for.  
  
Yuri ensures that’s taken care of and prides himself on catching Otabek off-guard and forcing him against alley walls and bathroom stalls and kissing him till his lips are swollen. He must be some sort of voyeur with the way he gets them caught and doesn’t pull off his boyfriend, yeah his boyfriend, until he’s thoroughly marked him up in front of another person. He likes the reaction:

Mila sighed, exasperated.   
  
Seung-Gil continued to wash his hands.   
  
Georgi shrieked and covered his eyes.   
  
Chris threatened to fire the both of them.   
  
And where Yuri was the tiger Otabek was the bear making due with whatever he could get his hands on. Setting his playlist to give him five extra minutes of grinding against the tall, lithe body. Letting the back of his shirt get wet from being pressed into the sink. Getting his fill becomes a full time task.   
  
There is a definite agreement that Yuri needs to chill the fuck out amongst the staff at Intoxicated. While many of them think it’s about damn time something happened between the young blonde and the new DJ, Chris has had to pull Yuri off the bar top one too many times. After the last time Chris sets them both down to deliver his very first ‘parental’ lecture.   
  
“Maybe you should try doing things outside the club,” he suggests. When Otabek goes bright red Chris almost smacks a hand hard against his head, “Like an actual date: picnics, movies. Go.”   
  
He gives them Friday off to ‘get whatever it was out of their system’, but they needed to promise they would actually do things outside.   
  
“For the sake of the business,” Chris croaks half begging.

* * *

He’s been folding the paper triangle together very meticulously for almost an hour. Aiming it and flicking it off of the table, the papers soars straight into the hoodie of the douche hogging the last macbook to watch Youtube videos. Yuri grins triumphantly. Beside him Otabek makes a low whistling noise.  
  
“Nice shot,” How in the hell can he know? Otabek has had his nose level with his 400 pack of flashcards for the last three days. Yuri’s sure that Otabek has taken the exact same class before because he keeps seeing terms that are littered through old notes Yuri flips through when he’s bored.   
  
_‘It’s different,’_ he’s told, ‘ _this is abnormal, child psychology,’_   
  
Whatever.   
  
Yuri waits maybe fifteen more minutes for Otabek to look up or share literally anything. When all he sees is Otabek start the pack over for the umpteenth time Yuri pushes out of his chair.   
  
“Leak,” he grumbles and heads out to the front of the library.   
  
In the few weeks they’ve been dating Yuri’s practically lived inside the various libraries on campus. He doesn’t even go to school and watching Otabek makes him glad for that. The man has had test after test, and when Yuri isn’t working, he finds himself cramped in a chair doodling on extra scrap paper or testing the other on materials Yuri couldn’t try to understand.   
  
You’d think when you start dating someone, Vance Joy would appear and start soundtracking your life with indie pop music and angels would drop down a flower crown around his head.   
  
That’s how it was for Katsudon and Viktor.   
  
Instead, he and Otabek’s relationship is a wave: stronger and more aggressive depending on the phases of the moon, but more or less a quiet push and pull. And sometimes, to no one’s fault, watching the waves could be boring. In times like this, Yuri had to entertain himself the best he could.   
  
There is an old candy store that sits in the downtown area right off of campus. Otabek’s told him that it has extended hours during finals week and has great sales. Better candy than cocaine Otabek jokes.   
  
The bell on the door clings, and he’s hit with nauseatingly sweet but also moldy, paperback books. It’s cramped with shelves upon shelves of ridiculously old looking candy. A large spinning contraption holds a billion types of salt-water taffy, and the walls are aligned with different types of PEZ dispensers. Yuri pulls himself a clear bag because what else is he going to do.   
  
He doesn’t want chocolate - he hates American chocolate and he has to thank his grandpa for that. His fingers trace over the different labels. That’s when he comes across an almost vault like container of rock candy. They’re edible calming crystals like the kind that Mila gave him for his 16th birthday.   
  
Carefully, the scratched plastic cover is lifted, and Yuri holds it and his bag in one hand and the scoop in the other. There are only two flavors: grape and cotton candy. He fucking hates cotton candy flavored anything, so he goes straight for the grape because it’s purple and that’s his favorite color. He gets about halfway through his bag when the cashier calls to him.   
  
“It’s two-fifty for a quarter pound.” Yuri inspects the purpled candies and guesstimates he’s at that quarter pound. It’s like one of those stupid ‘figure out the amount of jelly-beans in the jar’ problems Yakov used to make him solve in high school.   
  
Much to Yuri’s chagrin he guesses right and he can feel Yakov having a heart attack over so much ‘wasted potential’. He pays the cashier and fishes out the longest string of purpled candy and shoves it in his mouth string and all. It’s grape flavored - which is bottom of all the flavors - but he’s not mad about it. He’s munching as he looks around the square. A courthouse, a few restaurants; it’s nothing like the other side of the city where they work. 

* * *

He takes the long way to campus because Otabek, he is positive, is nowhere near finishing what he needs to be doing. The building he enters is way too collegiate with grandiose pillars and a painting of a bull that fit wall to ceiling.   
  
“Are you looking for anything?” Yuri whips around and a girl is standing right behind him. She’s got a ridiculous long sleeved polo that makes her look like a candy cane and her dark hair is rolled up into one of those sock buns.   
  
He’s still got a mouth full of rock candy, so he shakes his head. The girl eyes him wearily before reaching into her bag and pulling out a handful of pamphlets.   
  
“Here’s all the information you need about application and what credits transfer where,” then there is a massive book, “here’s the course catalogue, people like to look at it before orientation.” Yuri takes all of this willingly and when she finally hands him the red and white striped pencil he’s one item away from tipping over. She laughs and holds her hand signaling for him to wait there. When she returns, it’s with a red drawstring with an angry cartoon bull on the front.   
  
“Thanks?” He sounds, pulling the drawstrings close, because what else is there to say?   
  
“No problem,” she smiles, “good luck with everything!”   
  
Yuri steers right back the way he came drawstring in one hand, a few pieces of rock candy in the other. When he finally sets his things down at the library, Otabek has switched to an entirely new set of cards and smiles smugly at him.   
  
“You take a tour too?”   
  
“Shut your face,” he says. When Otabek is still suppressing a chuckle he grunts a ‘what’. Otabek motions around his mouth.   
  
“Purple,” he whispers. Yuri is lost for a second, but quickly looks down at his fingers stained in purple, edible dye. He opens his phone to snapchat and, _shit_ , it looks like he has a light shade of violet lipgloss with purple bruises around his mouth. He sighs heavily standing back up again.   
  
“I’ll be back,”   
  
He’s barely got the sense to slow his steps before he feels a hand encircle his wrist and pull him into the row of books.   
  
It’s not romantic at all, to make out against a bookshelf, the spines of the more worn texts dig into his spine; the ones covered in plastic scratch at his neck.   
  
Still, it’s pretty fucking hot after Otabek pulls back after licking up into his mouth, a string of saliva between them and murmurs, “Sweet.”   
  
Yuri pulls him back into the kiss and lets his arms wrap around Otabek’s shoulders pulling him closer. Otabek holds Yuri with a firm grasp on his hips, and suddenly Yuri wonders if the grasp would leave bruises if he weren’t wearing jeans.

The thought is brief because then Otabek’s hands are on his ass slowly kneading. The dark haired man quickens his kiss to swallow Yuri’s moan because Yuri liked his ass grabbed very, very much. Long slender fingers dig into Otabek’s back. Yuri is very close to be straddling Otabek’s thigh. It is with this that he realizes there is something hotter pooling in his stomach than normal. He breaks the kiss and presses his lips to Otabek’s neck till he’s nipping at the other’s earlobe.   
  
“Beka,” Yuri’s voice is thick with their kissing. Otabek clutches him tighter. Yuri moans again feeling a slight hardness at his hip.   
  
_Your apartment, now_ he wants to say, _I’ll blow you right here,_ is something else. He can’t get anything else out because now there is teeth involved in this.   
  
It’s finally Otabek that pulls away pressing a final, smiling kiss against Yuri’s lips. His own lips are tinged blue like Yuri’s and the blonde can’t help but snort in laughter.   
  
“You look like you blew a smurf,” he barely whispers. Otabek’s eyebrows shoot up, and his hands trace around his mouth with the realization that the candy had stained him.   
  
“Shit,” Otabek grumbles leaning forward so that his head rests against Yuri’s shoulder, “and that’s because I wanted to blow you first,”   
  
It’s quiet, but Yuri knows Otabek intends for him to hear it. He can almost feel the smirk against his shoulder, and he knows his whole body is bright red. He pulls the purple beanie he’s wearing over his face.   
  
“Still can,” he manages. 

* * *

Otabek is truly a gentleman. He ensures Yuri that their first sexual experience will not be in a bathroom at his University’s library. Nor, despite Yuri’s suggestions, will it be on his motorcycle.   
  
“It’s not as keen as a situation as you might think,” is his reply.   
  
But fuck keen, and fuck past experiences. Yuri’s body manages to stay a flame as they exit the library; Otabek has a hand pressed to the small of his back very much a possessive action. He presses himself as close as possible while on the motorcycle ride home.   
  
Despite being raised by members of the KGB (at least he was sure Lilia was) he managed to sneak around during high school. He was by no means a blushing virgin, far from it. That all didn’t matter with the way Otabek tugs him off the bicycle and immediately captures his lips into a bruising kiss.   
  
Yuri had made plans to take full initiative of the situation when they get to this point.   
  
But then Otabek has his hands on Yuri as soon as they get to the door. He's running his nails down his back and kissing on that one part of his neck that makes Yuri flush instantly.   
  
"Beka -" he's breathing hard already, and damnit he was supposed to be cool and experienced, "Beka, I need to get the door open. The do -" his words disappear when Otabek bites down hard at his neck.   
  
When he's finished lapping at it with his tongue Otabek leans forward and whispers hotly, "Open it then."   
  
It is then that Yuri begins to calculate how much they would be fined if found guilty of public indecency by fucking against Otabek's apartment door. He remembers that sweet old lady he borrowed ingredients from the first time he was here. She wouldn't call the police in the midst of him riding Beka's dick, would she?   
  
He's pulled back by the hand that is now palming at him over his jeans. Yuri's head lolls back and with all the concentration he has left manages to throw open the door and stumble in.   
  
Otabek immediately hauls him up by his ass and catches his mouth in a heated kiss. And oh my god, can someone cum from kissing? Yuri feels like a fucking virgin moaning loudly and feeling the flush grow on his cheeks and chest.

Otabek sits them on the bed his hands still groping Yuri's ass. The blonde straddles him and tugs at his lips with his teeth. There's a low growl coming from the other man, and the fuck he's already hard.   
  
He cannot act like he's the fucking innocent one. He rakes his nails down Otabek's undercut. He pulls at the darker man's hair allowing better access to his mouth. His tongue runs across Otabek's teeth and tongue, and he's delighted when all of this produces rough moans.   
  
"Fuck, Yura -" he breathes, and finally Yuri feels like he has control. He grabs the hem of Otabek's shirt and breaks the kiss in order to pull it over his head. It's tossed to the side and Yuri feels Otabek. Feels the smoothness of skin, the tautness of his muscles, the swirling hair that spans across his chest.   
  
He gently pushes Otabek against the sheets and immediately starts work learning the man’s torso.  The juncture of his neck causes Otabek’s grin to tighten Yuri notes. His collar bones are oddly sensitive.   
  
Yuri gives him feather light touches across his chest and abdomen as he bites. He’s pleasantly surprised when Otabek gives a light gasp at the caress on his sides and stomach.   
  
“Ticklish,” he murmurs, but Yuri knows that’s a fucking lie. His lips travel farther down until he nips at the spot under Otabek’s ribs. Another swallowed gasp, “I thought I was the one going to be blowing you.” Yuri spends the next few seconds keeping Otabek stuttering with long laps of his tongue against his stomach.   
  
“We can take turns,” he speaks into tan skin. His fingers work on the belt and then the button of Otabek’s jeans.   
  
“Yuri. Chris is calling me,” Yuri shoots up almost giving himself whiplash. Otabek has a mixture of pure rage and disappointment on his face. He answers.   
  
“Otabek, I’m so, so sorry,” Chris’ voice hardly sounds apologetic, “Leo’s sister decided to go into labor. He’s at the hospital with her tonight. We have no other backup.” If that hadn’t been Otabek’s phone he would have chucked it through the window. Alas, Otabek agrees to come in that night.   
  
“And tell Yuri he might as well come in too. I’ll find a way to comp you both the time,”   
  
“You’re paying me overtime you fucking cu-” Chris hangs up before Yuri can finish his expletive. He hangs his head and grips the sheets frustrated. Otabek is literally in front of him, hard, half-naked, and Yuri was planning on giving him the best fucking blowjob of his life.   
  
“Sorry, Yura,” Otabek pulls himself from under the Russian to sit up, “If we’re heading to work tonight, I’ve got to finish up some reading for my methods class,” He gets up from bed and immediately goes to the bathroom. Yuri is left to scream into the pillows, angry and horny. 

* * *

If looks could kill, Chris wouldn’t even be able to reincarnate. Yuri sends daggers his way every chance he gets. So much that Chris sneezes multiple times and turns with the inclination he’s being thought about.  
  
The entire night has been spent running around the first floor delivering drinks to drunk people. Yuri gets his ass pinched a few times, and he almost lays someone out if it weren’t for Georgi interfering. He’s hyper aware of everything, and the fact that he has to be here on a stupid Friday makes him rage.   
  
Mila is with him again, and she thinks the whole thing is fucking hilarious. “Can’t do it at home, can’t do it here,” she reaches to poke at his junk but Yuri quickly swats it away, “how’re you doing down there?”   
  
“Fine if I weren’t getting permanently, fucking, cock-blocked,” Yuri seethes. Mila puts a consoling arm around his shoulder snorting back her laughter, “You know, you’re always fucking laughing at me,”   
  
“I’m sorry, Yura. But hey, at least you know you’re not alone in this,”

No he wasn’t. Otabek’s music usually appealed to the mass of overtly sexual 18 to 24 year old, but tonight was aggressively suggestive. Yuri had several of the original songs under his “FOR SEX” playlist.   
  
_Lick, lick, lick, lick._   
  
_I want to eat your dick._   
  
_But I can't fuck up my nails._   
  
So I'mma pick it up with chopsticks.   
  
Mila’s bursting into tears she’s laughing so hard. Yuri can’t help the deep shade of scarlet he’s turning. Knowing that Otabek is as sexually frustrated as he is puts him on another level of want. He swallows hard before pressing his order of drinks onto Mila. He barely registers Mila’s yelling at him the music is so loud.   
  
Normally, he makes a show of getting to the stage. This time he rounds the corner where he can’t be seen and climbs from behind the speakers. If Otabek is surprised by Yuri’s presence he doesn’t show it. Instead he flips on another song with another highly erotic message.   
  
Yuri takes this as a sign, and he wraps his arms around Otabek’s middle playing with the hem of his shirt. He begins to kiss the back of Otabek’s neck because his headphones cover the area he wants. Slowly, he lets his nails scratch up and down his sides. Otabek starts to shrug away but then Yuri dips into the front of his jeans and he immediately stills.   
  
He pulls up one earphone, “I Won’t tell if you won’t.” Otabek nods and Yuri returns to graze the DJ’s sides. Yuri focuses on the small patch of hair that trails under jeans and the beginnings of a deep ‘v’. He’s still pressing kisses to Otabek’s neck when he dips his hand again and again.   
  
Otabek’s jeans unbuckle easily. He’s already hard against Yuri’s palm and the blonde can swear he hears a small whine come from the DJ. Yuri pulls him out of his boxers and strokes lightly thumbing at the head. This continues, but Yuri knows his arm will start to ache. Stealthily, he pulls away and gets to his knees. He has never been so thankful that this damn table is so heavy. He would never complain about setting it up ever again.   
  
Otabek doesn’t flinch when Yuri licks along his length. It feels hard and heavy on his tongue, and Yuri’s oddly excited. He teases with a few strokes, and then covers the head with his mouth.   
  
Otabek fist slams down on the keyboard and thousands of sounds happen at once. Yuri continues sucking at the head with his tongue roaming over a vein. He takes a breath and takes Otabek deeper.   
  
He twists his mouth as he pulls up and in. The music is getting increasingly louder and the beats and synth is becoming more sporadic. He can already taste the salty bitterness of precum.   
  
He presses his thumb into his grip as Otabek hits his throat. It’s something Mila taught him when she was still sucking dick; it was supposed to subdue gag reflexes. Myth or not, it helps him slide further onto Otabek and from above he can hear a string of curses in what must be a Kazakh. Yuri hollows his cheeks and sucks.   
  
Yuri can feel saliva drip on his chin as he moves, but Otabek’s thighs are shaking and it’s just so gratifying. He wishes Otabek could grab him by the hair and fuck his mouth.   
  
Something for later.   
  
Yuri feels Otabek tense and then there is a hand trying to move Yuri away. He grabs the DJ’s hips and quickens his pace gagging just slightly. It’s when his jaw is starting to tingle with pain that Otabek realizes Yuri’s not letting go. Moments later, he shoots down his throat hot and thick. Yuri pulls back slightly making sure to suck at the head and let it drop from his mouth with a satisfying pop. He presses a quick kiss to the softening length and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.   
  
When he comes back up from the table Otabek’s eyes are blown wide. In the strobes of blue and green they are all black and Yuri can see the tinge of flush on his cheeks and neck. The other can’t speak, so Yuri leans forward and gives a quick peck on the cheek.   
  
“You can return the favor later,” Otabek still doesn’t answer and Yuri feels triumphant for the second time that day stepping off the stage.   
  
It takes three seconds before he runs into Mila again. She knows perfectly well what he’s done because he knows his lips are puffy and his eyes are red and teary.   
  
“You’re sick,” she grumbles shoving his tray back into his hands. Yuri sticks out his tongue and Mila gags.

* * *

The rest of the night is spent filling bar orders and working the register when Georgi has to go home for some 'anniversary'. 

There is no more lusty thoughts or burning glances. Just lots and lots of work. 

The pair stumble through the apartment door at three in the morning. Despite promises to continue their sexcapade after work, Yuri falls face first into the bed and groans.   
  
He hadn’t had time to think about an outfit so he had worn shoes that were still not broken in. He groans kicking off his shoes and then his pants. He would fall asleep at the edge of the bed if Otabek would not coax him up to wipe off his makeup.   
  
In the bathroom, Yuri grumpily hands the wipe to Otabek signaling his exhaustion. Otabek chuckles warmly and wipes Yuri’s face gentler than he ever did on his own. It takes a little longer, but Yuri is clean faced and very much appreciative.   
  
The rest of their routine is done in silence both of them too tired to speak. When Yuri’s hair is pulled into a topknot he grabs a shirt of Otabek’s from the drawer and climbs into bed.   
  
Otabek doesn’t say anything about how Yuri has never slept over before, or how Yuri has not worn Otabek’s clothes since the first night. He definitely doesn’t say anything else about the day or about the club. Instead he slips into bed after turning on slow indie songs with Sofia in hand. Yuri finds a way to koala Otabek entangling their legs together. With the soft rise of Otabek’s chest and the purrs from Sofia, Yuri is lulled into a gentle sleep.   
  
The last thing he remembers is hearing Otabek whispering in Kazakh over and over in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For only five seconds of your time, you can save dovesnroses by providing her feedback and validation on her works. Please go to [palomayrosas.tumblr.com](https://palomayrosas.tumblr.com/) to make your validation heard. 
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> Ciao!


	8. Better Walk That Walk, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fucking Russians and their fucking birthday traditions.
> 
> His grandfather wasn't one for frivolous pleasures. Yuri could recite stories of Russia, and the factory, and how his great grandmother would spin yarn for clothes. So the fact that Yuri was allowed to celebrate his birthday, and he got his favorite piroshki was well worth it. He suffers through the ear pulling (nineteen this time, and he felt it). He sits through Viktor's speech of how proud he is of little Yurotchka. If it isn't for his grandfather holding onto his cane tighter in warning, Yuri would say some choice words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cue me slowly climbing out of my shame spiral*
> 
> Hello my readers it sure has been a while. Since chapter 7, I have graduated, gotten a job, ran around the state of Texas, lost all of ch. 8 and some different AU's, and had to start packing to move out of state.
> 
> Though it's been some time, I'm kind of proud with how this chapter turned out. Otabek and Yuri have put me back on a nice track. Y'all with your kind words and kudos have kept me inspired.
> 
> Special thanks to those who have been harassing me to update, you know who you are <3 
> 
> Comments, Critiques, Concerns are all welcome <3 <3
> 
> TW: The beginning has mentions of death.

He opens his eyes at the pit of dread in his stomach before his ringtone pierces. It rings once, twice. His limbs half work and his head is heavy with nicotine and alcohol from the club. On the fifth ring, Yuri’s hands manage to grab his phone and turn it over.   
  
Hospital   
  
He doesn’t know how he gets his clothes on, nor how he ends up running down this street. His world keeps blacking out every few steps. Did he really fucking drink that much?   
  
The bright halogen of the hospital lights are too much for his eyes, so he’s walking with barely there vision. He’s mumbling to someone, a nurse maybe. He’s guided quickly through hallways, up an elevator, and to a room that’s too cold and clinical.    
  
The lights dim suddenly leaving Yuri chasing after light spots in his eyes. His vision finally clears; his grandpa is laying in a bed in the back.    
  
Yuri opens his mouth but no sound comes. He walks over places his hand over his grandfather’s.   
  
It’s cold.    
  
Yuri pulls his hand away immediately looking up at his grandpa’s face.   
  
From here, Yuri sees the skull is caved in from where surgery has been attempted.    
  
His eyes are glazed and lifeless.   
  
The lips still move, and horrified, Yuri listens as ragged breaths form words:    
  
“Yura”   
  
Yuri shoots up from bed his hand pressing against his mouth. He stumbles in the darkness but manages to find the way to a sink. He retches violently.   
  
The blood is rushing in his ears as he heaves again and again. In the span of what feels like hours, his body finally figures there is nothing left to give up. As his breathing shallows, he watches the world around him become lucid.   
  
A hand pressed against the small of his back makes him jump, and the weakness in his limbs still linger from his dream. He lurches forward until steady hands lean him against the sink.   
  
“Yura,” at Otabek’s voice the fog lifts even more, “Yura, what the fuck? Are you okay?”   
  
Yuri realizes that he’s supposed to answer, but the burn in his throat hurts to much. He manages a “dream,” but it’s all he can do. Otabek’s rubbing his arms up and down asking Yuri to breathe for him. It helps, and slowly any anxiety that clogged Yuri’s brain dissipates.    
  
He’s in Otabek’s apartment. He got home from work and passed out. His Grandpa is alive.   
  
This time, his legs stop working completely. Otabek all but carries him back to the bed. Yuri’s poor body is listless and confused. He feels the cool wetness of a cloth against his face. The sound of running water fills his ears. It’s more comforting than the sounds rushing earlier. He turns to a cooler part of the bed. It smells of the rosemary and mint from Beka’s shampoo.    
  
It all lulls Yuri back to sleep. 

* * *

Yuri wakes up with a migraine and cottonmouth. He immediately recalls puking his brains out in Beka’s sink. Immediately, smothering by pillow doesn’t seem like a bad way to go. He feels a hand against his back and he tenses not even realizing that Otabek was still beside him.    
  
“Yura?” His voice is soft and sleep ridden. The tone is filled with hesitation, and oh shit Otabek literally saw everything. Yuri doesn’t move for a second; maybe if he stays still he can feign sleep. “Yuri, I know you’re awake.” The hand against him presses firmer on his shoulder, and he pushes so that Yuri rests on his back.   
  
Otabek’s propped up on one shoulder looking down at him. He’d make note of the way the stubble makes Otabek a hundred times more attractive and five years older. He’d also note the way Otabek’s hair curls in the morning mussed from leftover product. Instead, all he can focus on is the purpled circles around those dark brown eyes.    
  
“What’s up with you?” Yuri forces it to have as natural of a bite as he can make it. Otabek tilts his head, and Yuri circles close to his own face, “You look like you got plowed by a semi,” He gets a harumph, and Otabek reaches for his phone flipping it to the front facing camera.    
  
“So do you,”   
  
Yuri looks like some asshole bird made a nest in his hair. His eyes are still reddened. His lips are pale and chapped. He puts the pillow over his head and groans.   
  
“Well so much for impressing you by how flawless I look in the mornings,” He waits for a reaction, but when he gets none he pulls the pillow back. Otabek is transfixed on him. Maybe he hadn’t heard the joke?    
  
“Are we going to talk about last night?”    
  
“No,” the words come quickly and his impulse drives him off the bed. Otabek follows him before he gets shut out of the bathroom. When Yuri emerges, he’s leaning against the countertop mouth set in a firm, straight line. Yuri begins to gather his things.   
  
“Yura, you seem pretty shaken -”   
  
“Beka, I said, no,” Yuri doesn’t even look his way just continues stuffing things into his old dance bag. Smooth move, Plisetsky. The air in the apartment becomes thicker with tension, but Yuri doesn’t sway. No one, not even Otabek, needs to know about stupid shit that makes him stupid. When Yuri finally gets tired of the pressured stare on his back he turns around.   
  
“Why? Why is talking about this so important to you?” The bite is sharper this time, and for a brief second, Otabek flinches slightly.   
  
“Because it’s how adult relationships work.” It’s said with no malice, but Yuri feels the statement deep in his gut. He finishes stuffing his makeup bag into his dance bag and aggressively zips it closed.   
  
And because he always has the last word, “Well maybe I don’t want to be an adult.”   
  
Otabek stands dumbfounded mouth agape attempting to process the statement. He tries very hard to keep his shoulders from shaking, and he bites his lip in what would be a cute way if he wasn’t being all patronizing.   
  
“Well,” he manages with a lilt in his voice, “I’ll let you ponder that,” he steps back and makes his way to the bathroom. “Until then, I guess we put a pause on those adult things you wanted to do.” The last part is said casually over his shoulder, and for emphasis he slips his shirt off to display his amazing, god-sculpted back.   
  
Yuri feels he’s fucked himself.   


* * *

  
The next week and a half of February passes without any disturbances or any dreams. He stays a few more times at Otabek's during the weekend; it's easier than busing home at three in the morning.    
  
But there are no more discussions. If Otabek is still worried, he has found a good way of hiding it.   
  
Or maybe not.   
  
To say you've been sexiled would mean that you would have needed to have had sex previously with the person. In Yuri's eyes, one tipsy blowjob wasn't sex. And yet despite how amazing it was (Yuri didn't play around) Otabek had yet to reciprocate.    
  
Not like he was abstaining from any physical contact. There was a lot of heavy petting and grinding and making out. But this isn't Yuri Plisetsky's first rodeo.    
  
Also, he hasn't been laid in, like, months.   
  
Today being his birthday, he got his texts, phone calls, and one Chris sending him the Birthday Sex music video with a ;).  Normally this wouldn’t bother him. Except he listened to the song thirty times on the way to his grandpa’s house. Now, he is thinking about having sex with Otabek Altin while he's sitting on his grandfather's couch next to Yuuri.   
  
Thankfully, Yuuri's got a stack of third grade 'How To' essays to grade, so he doesn't see the painfully obvious blush that's on Yuri's face. Remembering how he had so casually blew Otabek under the table, and didn't even take the time to appreciate what was undoubtedly a very large gift.    
  
Three knocks at the door mean that Yakov and Lilia are here, and for once in his young life, Yuri is grateful for their existence and a distraction.   
  
He opens the door and those feelings last approximately five seconds.    
  
"Yura, do something with you hair. It's a nest," Yuri gets no warning as Lilia begins to dig bobby pins into his hair and he's getting painful dance class flashbacks.   
  
It's piled on top of his head in a neat bun when Yuri finally manages to swat her hand away.    
  
"You hag, I'm not ten anymore, get your old-ass hands off  _ AH _ -" Yuri cringes as something hard swats at his legs.    
  
"Not half a day in my house, and you're using foul language," his grandpa is staring at him in mock exasperation that melts into a grin, "Lila, excuse my grandson. He may be nineteen, but he's still -"

  
"A noodle!" Viktor exclaims from the kitchen, and Yuri gnashes his teeth so that the slew of curse words are contained. Viktor appears wiping his hands on a dishtowel and smiles that awful, heart-shaped smile.    
  
"Nikolai, I don't think you pulled his ears hard enough," Yakov, like his wife, has no idea of personal space, so he reaches over to tug at Yuri's ears.    
  
Fucking Russians and their fucking birthday traditions.

His grandfather wasn't one for frivolous pleasures. Yuri could recite stories of Russia, and the factory, and how his great grandmother would spin yarn for clothes. So the fact that Yuri was allowed to celebrate his birthday, and he got his favorite piroshki was well worth it. He suffers through the ear pulling (nineteen this time, and he felt it). He sits through Viktor's speech of how proud he is of little Yurotchka. If it isn't for his grandfather holding onto his cane tighter in warning, Yuri would say some choice words.    
  
By the end of the evening he's squished himself into the far right corner of the sofa eating his third piece of cake. Lilia giving him the stink eye. Yakov, Viktor and his Grandfather have gotten buzzed off of the Vodka Viktor had purchased and they are singing songs from old Soviet cartoons.    
  
Yuri took the opportunity to pull out his phone to snap a video and shared it to his story.   
  
_ Happy Birthday to me Bitches _   
  
His phone buzzed immediately in his hands with a text from Beka.    
  
Beka:  _ Hopefully the celebrations continue this weekend _ _  
_   
Earlier he had sent a picture of Sofia with a word bubble saying ‘Happy Birthday’.  With a text that sounds like he might exit sexiledom, Yuri can't hide the flush that bursts across his cheeks. Quick, he texts a reply and shoves the phone back in his pocket to recover. He might be too conspicuous because Yuuri catches his eyes with a smile.   
  
"Who could you be texting, Yurio," He teases.   
  
"None of your fu - business, Katsudon," Yuri fires back, but unfortunately the other's have already heard him. Viktor sobering but still incredibly annoying points dramatically.   
  
"It's your boyfriend isn't it,"    
  
Yakov and his grandpa stop talking and stare curiously. Lila sets her book down. And Yuri knows that if he commits murder in his grandfather's house there will be no more piroshki ever. The logic doesn't stop the rage building in his chest. Yuuri elbows Viktor hard in the side. Yuri stands up with an enraged grunt and pushes out the screen door towards the patio.   
  
Because here's the thing Yuri’s never had to come out to his Grandpa or Yakov or Lilia. He had been an effeminate child. Lilia let him practice in tutus during lessons. His family would purchase things from the Delia's in the mall. Upon being asked to prom by a senior named Peter, his grandfather had asked that he'd keep to his curfew of eleven thirty.   
  
The concept of sexuality was pretty much clear by the time Yuri was thirteen and Viktor was traipsing around with every man in the city.    
  
Yuri was pissed because revealing he had a boyfriend meant that he had decided to move on with his life. And to say it in front of the three adults who were concerned with his future he knew he was going to get shit for not telling them.   
  
As if on cue, the screen door opens and shuts and heavy footsteps make their way across the patio.    
  
Neither of them speak. Yakov rummages in his coat pocket for the brand new box of  Marlboro reds Yuri had to sneak him last week. He carefully picks one from the pack motioning for Yuri to light him with the stick lighter he had been fiddling with. Rolling his eyes, he reaches out to flick the flame on.   
  
"You know every cigarette ticks 15 minutes from your life," Yakov eyes him a little more irate than normal. He might speak, but instead he settles back and inhales long and deep. Yuri watches as the smoke filters through his mouth and nose.    
  
"Every minute with Lilia is a year from my life. At this point I'm trying to see what kills me quicker,"   
  
Yuri scoffs at that. Because Yakov is his grandfather's friend, and Lilia has been his dance teacher for the womb, he'd seen it all. 25 years of marriage that led to a divorce, which led to a domestic partnership which really was their marriage without the license. Apparently, the 'label' of marriage was what their counselor said was unsettling.    
  
"Really, it’s you who is working on Lilia's last nerve." Yakov shrugs and continues to smoke. Yuri scratches at his eyes from the second hand sensations.    
  
"Says the boy that dyes his hair pink at fifteen and causes a mini stroke," Yuri scoffs because it was temporary dye, and it hadn't been a stroke but a cluster headache. Lilia was too dramatic for her own good.    
  
Their conversation dies down as the paper burns closer closer to Yakov's fingers. In between reaching for another one, he sighs.   
  
"Yuri, you're nineteen now," he pauses like he's choosing how to word what follows, "aren't you concerned with what happens next?"   
  
Yuri doesn't look at him. Instead, choosing to focus on the misaligned hedges of the neighbors yard.    
  
"Your grandfather mentioned you haven't talked about school in a while.” Yuri groans but in the back of his mind remembers the red drawstring bag that sits ontop of his hamper. “Lilia and I are just making sure you're not getting complacent."   
  
In high school, Yakov would have boxed his ears in with his grandpa's permission. And when he couldn't Lilia sure as hell punished him with the hardest routines and the most intense barre sessions.    
  
"You used to be such a hard ass, Yakov," he finally speaks, "you've gotten all concerned and soft in your old age."   
  
From his peripheral, he can see his old principle getting red in the face.    
  
"I may be older, but I can show you what being a hard ass is, boy!" Yakov waves the cigarette unlit in his hand, "No student of mine is going to lose wasted potential!"   
  
The more he shouts the funnier it usually gets. Not this time around, and Yuri settles against the railing of the patio tight lipped.    
  
Inside he can hear Viktor and his grandfather in the living room; they're laughing at something. He silently uses this as his excuse to slip behind Yakov and head inside.   
  
"Romance, it makes you look at things through rose colored glasses. Don't settle, Yorachka," he says with finality pressing the second cigarette back into its pack. Yuri doesn't acknowledge the statement, and lets the screen door slam loudly behind him.   
  
Yuuri and Viktor are packing away leftovers and Lilia is taking a call when he comes back inside. His grandfather is moving the furniture around with a grimace. Yuri goes to help him move his favorite chair to the spot near the remote and telephone. His grandpa’s movements halt and one hand reaches up to ruffle Yuri’s hair. Surprised by the unexpected affection Yuri shies staring at his shoes.   
  
His grandpa sighs, “Yorachka, you know you could have told me about this, Da?” Yuri nods, “As long as he respects you, and you are happy, that’s all I need,” Like when he was five Yuri ducks to tuck himself into his grandpa’s side. He receives a chuckle and the arm at his hair reaches to hold him tight.   
  
“He’s pretty cool, Dedushka,” Yuri murmurs feeling small against his parent, “I think you’d like him,”   
  
“Perhaps you can introduce me sometime.” Nikolai pulls away to adjust his chair just right, “Perhaps for my second birthday?” Yuri pauses. The dream from weeks ago flit across his memory. He forces a smile.   
  
“Of course, Dedushka,”   


* * *

  
Yakov’s words nag at the back of his mind all the way home, and follow him as he heads into work that night. Chris, like the asshole he was, had scheduled Yuri to work on his birthday. As a consolation, Chris has a cupcake waiting from a Sprinkles vending machine. It pairs well with his free glass of the expensive champagne. Mila brings her gift as well: the layered choker he had wanted from Asos.    
  
For having to work, he is feeling himself in his outfit choice and gifts. Viktor had even taken him to the Blowout Bar for an extra treat and his hair looked fucking phenomenal. He snaps an old school selfie in front of the dressing room mirror. He adds it to his instagram with three birthday cake emojis and tags the club.   
  
Otabek texts him directly.   
  
Beka:  _ Careful, someone may just steal you.  _   
  
Yuri smirks at the screen before snapping another picture making sure it conveyed a lewd amount of sex appeal. He follows the picture message with a text.   
  
_ Come and get me then. _   
  
Mila busts in then chatting with Sarah about something or other. She catches Yuri trying to close his phone and her mouth pulls into a toothy grin.   
  
“Sarah, I’m going to have to call you back,” Yuri groans as they exchange I love you’s and then Mila’s chortling. Why was she always catching him?! “If you’re trying to sext Otabek, I can help you.” Yuri takes an empty plastic cup and hurls it at her. She dodges effortless.    
  
“Shut up you ugly hag!” he spits. Mila grabs him around the middle and hoists him up. How she can still do this when Yuri’s inches taller than her bewilders him to the point of shrieking.   
  
“My widdle Yura all grown up,” she chides swinging him side to side, “and wanting sex from a boyyy!” The teasing and comments get to him too quickly and he snaps.   
  
“He won’t have sex with me!” he bursts and Mila stills. She sets him down gently.   
  
“Why? Is he a virgin?” Yuri shakes his head, “Is he religious?” again no, “does he think  _ you’re _ the virgin,” Yuri groans slapping a hand to his forehead. Mila laughs, “Then what then?”   
  
Yuri mostly keeps to himself, but Mila’s always been the exception. Since joining Lilia’s class in elementary school she has been his closest confidant. So he tells her about the dream, tells her about his spat with Otabek, even continues with Yakov’s warning from earlier in the day. She listens nodding every now and then.  He’s sat on the foldable chair and Mila crouches beside him.    
  
“Sounds tough,  _ golubsti _ ,” she murmurs pressing her forehead to his, “but don’t worry, Mama Mila will fix something for you,” from this close, Yuri can make out the mischief in her bright blue eyes. He smiles wryly.   
  
“Why does that sound like it’ll end poorly,” Mila huffs and flicks Yuri in the forehead sympathy gone.   
  
“What it’ll end with, is you getting laid.”   


* * *

  
That something Mila promises comes sooner than expected. Yuri’s refilling the strangest bottle combination of Wild Turkey and diet soda when Georgi calls him over. He hands him a bucket with bottles of champagne and Grey Goose.   
  
“Chris said to pass this onto you,” he apologizes, “understaffed up there.” Yuri swipes at the ice bucket and stares daggers at the older man. Georgi turns to other customers basically hiding. Yuri curses him to hell before dragging both buckets up the stairs.    
  
He sets the whiskey order down with the group of men with loose ties and sweating foreheads. One of them calls him pretty before slipping him a five dollar bill. Yuri thanks him by swearing at him in Russian and briskly walks away.    
  
Suddenly, he realizes that he does not know who ordered the champagne and vodka. He all but hurls the bucket off the balcony and into the audience. He would have to walk all the way down to Georgi, smack the shit out of him to get his info, and walk all the way back up.    
  
“Yuri!” Mila’s voice calls him from behind and he turns to see her at a booth. The mischief dances on her face, and beside her is Otabek.   
  
Now Yuri can go about this two ways: he could drop the ice bucket and run into Otabek’s arms and kiss him senseless, or he can walk slowly, poised like a bad bitch who looks damn good. He chooses the latter and saunters up to Otabek with a cheeky grin.   
  
“Hey,” Otabek breathes and he doesn’t hide that he’s giving Yuri the once over. Otabek doesn’t look bad at all. He’s wearing a black v-neck that’s tight across his chest and arms. His hair is swept to the side but falls a little into his eyes. He smelled fucking amazing. It almost,  _ almost _ , makes Yuri lose his composure.   
  
Yuri opens his mouth to speak but -

“Happy Birthday, Yuri!” Mila shouts grabbing Yuri and steering him into the booth. Otabek sits beside joins them as Mila takes the ice bucket and glasses and pours three shots and pops a bottle of champagne. Mila makes for them to grab the shots for a toast.    
  
“To my dearest, little,  _ golubsti _ ! Mama told you she’d fix something!” she takes the shot like the Russian she is and smiles eagerly. Yuri almost chokes from Mila’s speech. When they’ve taken a second round Mila stands up.    
  
“Chris is letting you have the rest of the evening off. Don’t get too crazy you too!” She narrows her eyes at Otabek and they share a nod.    
  
When Mila’s out of sight Yuri turns and quickly kisses Otabek. When they pull apart, Yuri smiles, “Why the hell are you here?”   
  
“Mila called,” Otabek responds reaching to grab the champagne and two glasses, “Said that Chris set this up for you and that I should join.”   
  
Yuri takes mental note that he’ll have to buy her something extra special for her birthday. He takes the offered glasses and drinks all of it and almost all of a second glass. Yuri swings his legs onto Otabek’s lap and the other chuckles pulling him closer. They drink champagne for a while Yuri enjoying the warmth of his boyfriend next to him on his birthday.    
  
“I made you something,” Otabek reaches into his the pocket of his discarded leather jacket and pulls out his phone and two pairs of earphones. They attach to the port Otabek has and he slips the earphones in Yuri’s ears. Yuri watches as Otabek scrolls through his phone to something entitled Yura. In the dim light he can see the light flush on Otabek’s cheeks. “It’s not much, but - I hope you like it,”    
  
Yuri listens and the music from the phone cancels out the noise of the club. The music starts slow with a thrumming bass and a light snare. There are no words, but the music moves slow and electric through him. Otabek’s listening with him and Yuri feels his gaze.    
  
The melody is seducing and maybe because they’ve continued their shots and champagne through listening or music really has magic powers, but Yuri is getting hot.    
  
He turns and sees that Otabek looks the same and they must have the same thought because they both lean to capture the other’s lips.    
  
Yuri is lost in the way Otabek traces his lips over with his own. The ghost of a barely there kiss starts his body all over. There is a tingle that runs along his lips to the pit of his stomach. Yuri can’t help but push up slightly to try to capture a kiss and Otabek responds  deep and hard. He pulls Yuri forward so that he straddles Otabek and that spazzes all of Yuri’s brain - there goes fifth grade.   
  
Yuri yanks the headphones that are getting tangled in his hair and hands and goes back to Otabek hands cupping his face. Otabek’s hands are tight around Yuri’s waist going low to knead at his ass. The fabric of his tights cover what rides up and it’s almost like Otabek’s touching bare skin. It makes Yuri needy and he presses harder against his partner.   
  
“You look amazing,” Otabek states between kisses, “These tights - always wear them,”    
  
Yuri huffs a laugh, “Sure thing, Beka,”    
  
Their kisses are messy and somehow they get the champagne involved Otabek spilling it ‘accidentally’ but then lapping it up Yuri’s collarbones. Yuri can feel Otabek hard in his jeans and he presses down eagerly against him.    
  
“No, no, no, no, no!” Chris is swatting the both of them. Yuri pulls away from the dark bruise on Beka’s neck with a whine. Otabek’s face is red.    
  
“I expect this thing from Viktor and Yuuri, not from my DJ and my server,” Otabek scoots farther from Yuri on the booth and sets the spilled champagne bottle upright, “Yuri,  I let Mila give you alcohol because I can trust you.  _ THIS _ ,” he motions to the two of them, “is not gaining trust,”   
  
Yuri’s too wound up to be sorry, probably too buzzed.    
  
Their silence seems to be an apology enough for Chris. He sighs heavily muttering something in French and pulls out his phone. “I’ll call an uber for both of you,”    
  
He takes one last look before scoffing and pressing a hand to his eyebrows, “Now please clean up,”   


* * *

They polish off the champagne between the two of them. Otabek has to hold Yuri as they stumble into the backseat of the uber. It’s barely midnight but Yuri has the giggles and he’s ready to continue what they started in bottle service.   
  
Otabek, from what he can tell, is tipsy. There’s a smile that plays on his lips and he keeps carding his fingers through Yuri’s hair and calling him beautiful. They keep in PG - 13 for the uber driver. Meaning, Yuri spends the ride attached to Otabek’s neck continuing to mark him up.    
  
When they stumble into the apartment they’re foolishly tripping over nothing. They’re not even that drunk. The cat is resting on Otabek’s bed and she stretches giving them an irritated look.   
  
“Sofia,” Otabek calls out, “Sofia I’m home,” the cat gives him an offended look before hopping off and running to the closet.    
  
Yuri laughs and Otabek pouts  _ such a mean cat, _ he murmurs.    
  
“Poor Beka,” Yuri coos and pulls Otabek back to him. Trying to undo his jeans he’s suddenly stopped. Otabek grabs his hand and pulls away.   
  
“No, no, Yura,” he teases, “remember no adult things for you.”    
  
Normally, sober Yuri would take this and push it off as childish. Slightly inebriated Yuri takes this as an insult. He rips his hand away from Otabek and glares.   
  
“What the fuck Otabek! Just because I won’t tell you about some stupid fucking dream!” He kicks off his shoes and trips on the way to the kitchen to drink water. Otabek follows behind him.   
  
“That dream made you sick to your stomach,” Otabek reminds him, “That’s not just stupid, that’s something that bothers you,” Yuri’s on his third glass of water when Otabek pulls the glass away. “Let me help you,”   
  
“I don’t need you fucking analyzing me, Altin!” he bites and Otabek angrily gulps down water. “I don’t understand why you need to know in order to fuck me,”    
  
Otabek drinks another glass, slower this time, before responding. “I’ve told you practically everything about me, Yuri. Even from the beginning. I feel like you’ve barely told me anything.”    
  
Even in his hazy brain, Yuri knows this argument is valid. Yuri knows a fair amount about Otabek.  He knows that he color codes his psych assignments in greens, blues, and purples. He knows that without Yuri, Otabek will survive on cheese and maybe a potato or two. That his favorite color is navy.   
  
And yes, Otabek knows the silly things about Yuri as well. But Yuri also knows Otabek picked Sofia up from a shelter the day he moved into his apartment because he was missed his mother. He knows that the cyrillic letters tattooed on his upper arm are the names of his mother and sisters: Mira, Sabine, Arai. He knows that when his sister has panic attacks, she calls him to calm her down.   
  
Yuri has never spoken to Beka about his grandfather. About  _ why _ he retired from the force and moved to assisted living. Because there was never a reason to acknowledge it’s happening as long as Yuri stayed where he was.    
  
The conversation looks to have sobered Otabek up and he sighs before leaving the kitchen and plopping down on his bed.    
  
“Get the lights.”   
  
Yuri stands there in what feels like a stupid Robert Frost poem. He could leave. Walk out and deal with the consequences later. He could grow up and actually talk to Beka. He shuts off the lights and crawls next to Otabek still thinking.   
  
There is an awkward space between them that neither will fill. It feels like hours later that Yuri attempts Otabek’s name. Then a  _ Beka _ . When nothing happens he resigns himself to staring out.   
  
“My senior year of high school my grandfather had a stroke,” Yuri speaks into the darkness. Otabek doesn’t stir. “For a while he was paralyzed on his left side. I had all my credits, so I just slipped out early to help him. Took about a year to get the movement back and he left to live in retirement community.”    
  
The words come freely like he hasn’t been able to speak about in months. “I got admitted to the University, but they said they could defer my enrollment for a year. That year is coming up. I’m scared about what will happen when life starts moving again.” His voice drifts off to a whisper and  then, “But I guess it’s been moving, huh?”    
  
Yuri watches the ceiling fan spin and tries to follow the floaters at the corner of his eye. The humming from the fan makes his eyes heavy, and he’s about to turn over when he feels Otabek shift and press a kiss to his hair.   
  
“Life’s always moving, yea?” he replies voice heavy, “but it’s always ready for you to hop back on,” Yuri’s eyes shoot open fully awake now. He turns over to meet Otabek his eyes are half lidded, “Thank you for sharing that with me.”   
  
“You say the sappiest shit sometimes,” Yuri mocks, “You learn that from your psych classes?” Otabek gives him a tired smirk and pulls him closer.   
  
“Nah, experience. I am a full two years older than you,” Yuri smiles snuggling into the juncture of the other man’s shoulder. He thinks for a moment and then rolls over Otabek ( “Yuri, seriously?”) to the bedside table. One eyed, he unlocks his phone and scrolls to the University’s website and clicks on admission. Before he can scroll all the way through, an arm reaches and pulls the phone from his grasp.   
  
In his protests, Yuri gets them both tangled into the sheets and Otabek has to keep him from falling on the floor. Sofia meows from the closet in the most judgmental tone before scurrying making scurrying sounds from her cat tree. Otabek manages to wrap the covers around Yuri till he’s bundled up and burrito like. He leans over and gives Yuri a deadly serious look. “Sleep now, admission talk later,”    
  
Yuri blows his hair out of his face and supplies a cheeky grin, “Yes, daddy,” Otabek narrows his eyes and Yuri can them physically darken.    
  
“Come here,” he grumbles.   
  
Otabek turns him over and presses his lips firmly against Yuri's. It's chaste, but there is a pressure beneath it - a question. He lets Otabek deepen the kiss tilting his own head for better access. Otabek's kisses become hotter but painstakingly slow. It keeps a tingle on Yuri's lips that travels down his chest. Yuri attempts to quicken the kisses, but Otabek pulls up only enough so that his lips ghosts Yuri's skin. He stays this way mouthing almost at Yuri's jaw. The barely there contact burns in his chest a little hotter. Otabek lips at the space below his ear gently scraping his teeth against the pulse. Yuri is squirming now; the frustration budding into arousal that he does not want to give Otabek the satisfaction of knowing.    
  
Instead he reaches to grab at the man's hair raking fingers through his undercut. He feels Otabek smirk against him and the scrape of teeth becomes a little harder and Yuri's definitely hard in his shorts and tights.    
  
"Beka c'mon -" Yuri's urging because he's sobering and things are becoming a little more sensitive. "It's my birthday,"   
  
Otabek stills at the comment pushes himself up onto his elbows. And Yuri's staring into Obsidian eyes. It's a hungry stare that has Yuri shuddering. Otabek leans forward to kiss Yuri on the forehead and then his eyelids and nose. He kisses Yuri again with more fervor biting at Yuri's lower lip swallowing the breathy noises he makes. Yuri feels nails scrape against the expanse of his stomach and he arches into the touch. His shirt gets pushed all the way up and Otabek meets the fabric as he begins to nip along Yuri's neck.    
  
At his collarbone, Otabek bites become harder and Yuri's noises are much more expansive. Otabek ducks below the fabric of his shirt to continue down Yuri's chest. The sensation of the bites linger and mix with the burn in Yuri's stomach.    
  
Otabek teases a nipple with his teeth and Yuri's breath hitches. He must enjoy the sound because he takes it in his teeth again and laps at it gently with his tongue. The hand on his stomach comes up and teases the other nipple hardening with simple touches.    
  
In the spaces when his mind can focus, Yuri feels himself dampening his shorts and he curses himself for not removing them before all of this. But then Otabek's mouth has switched sides and his brain goes blank again and again.    
  
It's torturous but Yuri's gasping and grabbing at the pillow under him. Then there is a hand fiddling with the buttons of his shorts. Instinctively and rather aggressively Yuri lifts his legs so Otabek can slide them off. His eyes fix on Yuri's dick hard in the opaque black tights.    
  
Yuri suddenly has a fantasy about fucking Otabek during dance class.   
  
Like with all of his actions tonight, it's with such a tenderness that Otabek rolls down the tights off of Yuri's hips and thighs staring fixated with the way the fabric forms to Yuri's shape.   
  
He moves off of the bed so that he can roll the tights off of Yuri's foot. Yuri scoots forward so that his bare legs now hang off the bed. Otabek lifts one gingerly and begins to kiss at the calf and run his hand up and down his other thigh.   
  
"Beka," Yuri breathes and  _ holy fuck _ can he just get to the fucking point?   
  
As if he's heard him, Otabek kisses up Yuri's leg every now and then taking time to press his teeth into what'll be a brilliant bruise.   
  
He's slower as he reaches Yuri's thighs. Fingers trace along the inside of one as his tongue drags across the bites on the other. The anticipation in Yuri's groin is physically painful now. When Otabek lets his fingers brush against his dick Yuri's mind feels like it could burst.   
  
He's wearing grey laced panties that would show his ass off perfectly if Otabek had let him. Now he just wants the dreaded things off. Just like his tights, Otabek takes the times to pull them off Yuri. If he decides to tease his legs again, Yuri may just kill him.   
  
Instead, with underwear discarded, Otabek leans forward to kiss along the golden curls to the hilt of Yuri’s shaft. Yuri has two seconds to think before Otabek licks a filthy stripe down his length and takes him into his mouth.    
  
"Oh my  _ god _ ," Yuri's eyes flutter closed and he attempts a sound that may resemble Beka's name? He can't tell. Doesn't care to think about anything but the way Otabek pulls to Yuri's tip before completely swallowing him again. He's been waiting for this and now that Otabek is tracing his tongue along Yuri's head he's bucking his hips wanting even more.     
  
Otabek presses a hand to Yuri's hip to settle him, and he pulls off Yuri with a gentle pop. "You're so impatient," he chuckles his voice dark and graveled.    
  
Yuri props himself on his elbows and huffs, "You're taking a fucking year!" Otabek quirks a brow. An unspoken, 'I can leave this right here if you'd like,' hangs in the air. Yuri bites his lip from saying anything more and Otabek shares a victorious smile before returning in between Yuri's thighs.   
  
He immediately begins to mouth along the veins of Yuri's length and licking at the precome leaking from his head. Yuri groans and again he's being swallowed and sucked down Otabek's throat.    
  
His hands are wringing the sheets now and he can feel the presence of a newer more exciting pressure start to build. His moans are becoming throaty and breathless.    
  
Otabek's arm is still hooked around Yuri's leg. The other moves from where it's massaging his thigh to teasing Yuri's sack. His fingers grab and roll slowly and when Yuri thinks this may be it, a finger slides gently down to rub his perineum. Yuri keens into the touch mouthing at his wrist to keep from stifling the obscenities that fall off his lips. Otabek is still working him slowly in his mouth, but now this onset of sensation is almost too much.    
  
"Beka - please," his words are choked. He doesn't know what he's begging for, but it seems Otabek does because he pulls off Yuri's cock to lick long strokes down to Yuri's hole.    
  
_ Holy Fuck _ ! he's not sure if it's English or Russian or just screamed in his brain. Otabek has a bruising hold on Yuri's thighs holding him up so he can lick up into him. He switches between long strokes that graze him to flicks of his tongue that almost, but not quite, hit into him. Yuri arches and makes pathetic loud noises that he can no longer suppress.    
  
It's when Otabek's tongue presses into his entrance that Yuri remembers he was moments from coming with Otabek on his cock. The tongue in his ass only intensifies that feeling. His hips are shaking his hands scrambling for something more stable than sheets. Yuri can here the messy sounds of Otabek's mouth on his rim and it's what slowly begins to unbind him. The cord in his stomach unravels and like Otabek, his orgasm buds slow but hot white. Somewhere Otabek brings a hand to Yuri's cock and pumps it once, twice. That is when everything crashes and his vision clouds and Beka's name falls from his lips like a prayer as he feels himself come onto his stomach and chest.    
  
In the moments following the lull of Yuri's high he feels the pain: the ache in his balls, his thighs from being held down, his fingers that have been grasping sheets like a lifeline. Even his throat feels a little hoarse. Otabek has apparently gone to the bathroom because he feels a damp towel wiping him down. He finally manages to open his eyes and Otabek's smiling down at him.    
  
"Happy Birthday,"   
  
Yuri's too satiated to be mad. Instead, he rolls to his side to begin working on Otabek when a hand stops him. He looks up questioning, and Otabek shakes his head.   
  
"Still too drunk to get it up," he says simply, "No worth in trying," he strips down to his underwear and climbs into bed with a still confused Yuri. Wraps them both in his comforter. Yuri turns so that he's lying on Otabek's shoulder.    
  
"That's not exactly fair,"  Yuri whispers trying to not sound as drowsy as he feels. He gets an noncommittal noise in response and an arm draped over him.    
  
"Could eat you out everyday," Otabek murmurs against his hair.   
  
"Promise?" Yuri teases lightly eyes heavy and almost closed. He feels a slight pat and a kiss.   
  
When he finally hears Otabek’s steady breathing, and he pokes him a time or two, Yuri struggles out of his cocoon of sheets and reaches out for his phone. There’s a twinge of something in his stomach that can only be described as excitement. For the first second time since meeting Otabek, he feels the gears start to rotate and his world begin to shift once more.   
  
After a transcript request and an email to an advisor, he finally slips off to sleep. The dreams are sweeter this time around. More cats than hospitals, and more ice skating than anything.  And in the morning when he's feeling a little less weighted Otabek makes good on his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope things are starting to come together like they have for me. Next time Otabek's studying for the GRE and Yuri's learning ways to keep him focusing. 
> 
> Come yell at me about Otayuri, this fic, or anything on your mind at [palomayrosas.tumblr.com](https://palomayrosas.tumblr.com/).
> 
> BTW I love you all. 
> 
> XOXO
> 
> DovesnRoses


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